


Alchemist in the Order

by EraserJester



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Edward Elric, Dumbledore's Army, Edward Elric Swears, Edward is having none of Umbridge, Found Family, Gen, Hogsmeade, Hurt Edward Elric, In this house we disrespect Umbridge, Professor Edward Elric, Sick Edward Elric, St Mungo's Hospital, yes Ed will fight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 104,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EraserJester/pseuds/EraserJester
Summary: It's Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, and Dark Forces seem to be getting stronger. In an effort to ready the students in the event of an all-out war Dumbledore opens up a new class, one that hadn't been taught in a long time. Alchemy.(AU where fma's Promised Day/eclipse is ten months later than the canon date, giving the good guys more time to prepare against Father. So right now, Edward knows of the Homunculus and Father and all that drama but has yet to fight them in Central. Easy enough to remember, right?)Edward Elric just wanted to stay with Alphonse and prepare for the Promised Day, but Ed's being reassigned-not just to any old place in Amestris, but to the other side of the world, a place called Hogwarts in London, England. So what happens when a grumpy Edward Elric comes to Hogwarts to teach Alchemy?Hogwarts is a new experience to Edward. What the hell is the Order of the Phoenix? Why is he yanked into it? What's so special about Harry Potter? A pissed professor, the Order of the Phoenix, Umbridge, and a worrying Molly Weasley.Canon pairings
Comments: 523
Kudos: 1118





	1. The Order of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I hope you will enjoy this work as much as I did when working on it! Thank you very much for reading!

Edward kicked the Flame Alchemist's door open, not bothering to knock. He stomped to Mustang's desk where the man waited. It seemed that every step he took, the towering stack of paperwork on the Colonel's desk trembled. Edward slammed the envelope in his hand on the desk.

"Try not to destroy my furniture, Fullmetal."

"Shut up, Mustang! What's the meaning of this?" Edward continued in a mocking voice. "Dear Mister Elric, You are to teach Alchemy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry don't kid me, I know shit mail when I see it!"

"The Fuhrer has requested you to teach there, Edward. On behalf of the headmaster, named-" Mustang glanced at a paper in front of him, just one of many on his desk. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. What a mouthful."

Ed gritted his teeth. "The Fuhrer has requested me, specifically?"

"That's right." The hidden message was obvious in Mustang's eyes. The Fuhrer, or rather the Homunculus wanted Ed out of the picture. If Ed has calculated correctly, the Promised Day was ten months away. A goddamned school year was nine months, putting Edward out of commission until the last month.

They were stuck. Mustang was being watched just as much Edward was.

"I'm bringing Alphonse with me."

"I'm afraid you can't do that, Fullmetal."

"Why the hell not?!"

Roy Mustang tapped the envelope. "You are to go alone, although I'll see what I can do. Remember, you're teaching at a school for magic. You can take this opportunity to go through their library. It may give you some clues about the Homunculus. Hell, it may even have something to do with Alchemy."

"Alchemy hasn't been in England for what, almost a hundred years! It's going to be like teaching idiots!"

"Your students will range from ages eleven to eighteen, and you have full authority as Professor Elric."

Edward paused, musing with an evil grin on his face. "I go to his school of magic, I hold power over those older than me, I can check out their library....I'll go, Mustang."

"Wait. I need to brief you on London's...status."

"Spit it out, Colonel!"

"Their country has...an enemy, who just happens to be a wizard with dark magic. There are many precautions put in place to protect London from being attacked. One is called the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore will update you on it later."

"What?! I have to teach Alchemy, and protect Hogwarts? Bad joke, Mustang."

"We could always court-martial you for disobeying direct orders from the Fuhrer."

"That's an even worse joke."

"That's not all. You are to protect a Mister Harry Potter if the scenario arises. Before you explode, let me explain. This Harry, so he's called, has been in contact with the Dark wizard I mentioned earlier. Many authority figures want to keep a close watch on him."

"The hell? I have to teach, fight, and babysit?!"

"Not at the same time."

" _Argh_!"

So the Fuhrer is hoping I'm going to be killed in London, so I can't fight on the Promised Day?

"Another thing. In London, they speak English. I don't suppose you've brushed up on it?"

"Damn you, Mustang!"

"I expect biweekly to monthly reports, Elric. Make them detailed."

Edward rubbed his face. "Why me?"

"More complaining and I suspect Major Armstrong or I may have to accompany you."

"...I'll get packing."

Edward's swears echoed down the hallways of Central.

\---

"Stupid Mustang!"

Edward angrily threw another pair of pants into his travel bag.

Alphonse took the rumpled pants out, carefully folding them, then putting it back in the bag with a pat. "Now, brother, look on the bright side of things. You're going to a school that teaches magic! Plus, you could make more friends-"

"Don't need friends" Ed groused as he rifled through one of the many books in his room. "I'm thinking...Al, what books should I bring with me? Imagine the people I'm teaching these to are complete idiots."

"Don't be mean, Ed. They're what, eleven? You should go easy on them-"

Ed dumped six books in the bag. "Whatever. Now, those books are for the basics, I should get some more...."

Alphonse tidied up the books, making sure none of them were scuffed. "You'll write to me, right?" He asked in a hopeful voice. Ed patted Alphonse's shoulder, the highest part he could reach without climbing.

"Don't worry, Alphonse. I'll write to you as fast as I can." He lowered his voice. "This school is made of magic and teaches magic, yes? I'm going to take a look at their library-see if I can find anything related to the Philosopher's stone. Maybe we'll even find a way to defeat that creepy Father Homunculus."

"Be careful, brother."

"Sure, sure."

"Ed?"

"Hm?"

"How do you say 'hello' in English?"

"...I don't know."

"Better start studying."

"Please don't remind me."

"Oh, I almost forgot. You should bring your uniform, too."

"I'm not wearing that piece of crap!"

"Now, I'm sure there are a few formal events there, right? You want to look your best..."

"Alphonse!"

\---

Edward glanced at his silver pocket watch. He was waiting just outside of Central. He actually didn't bring much essentials with him, most of the space in his bags were filled with books.

_Dumble-whatever his name is late._

And it's damp. Indeed, it had rained the night before. The air was moist and the grass was wet.

_Makes my joints feel weird._

_Maybe I should have gone to Winry's before going to London._

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you Edward Elric?"

Edward froze. He hadn't heard any footsteps. How did he get behind him? Warily, Edward turned around. In front of him was an old wizard, with a long beard, longer than any Edward had ever seen. He wore dark blue robes and half-moon spectacles. He fit the label of _wizard_ , all right.

Old fart looks like he just woke up and tied a bathrobe around himself.

"Dumble-dumblee-Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, that's my name." At Edward's blank stare Dumbledore said "Can you understand me?"

"Not much." Edward's own English was rather harsh and garbled.

"Allow me." Dumbledore took out his wand, muttering a spell.

"There, how do you feel?"

"I feel completely normal, what do you-" Edward gasped. He was speaking perfect English, with barely an accent. "You can do that? With magic?"

"Yes, we can. The spell is only temporary, so I still recommend you study English." It was only then that Dumbledore decided to study Edward's face.

"Are golden eyes and hair popular in Amestris?"

Edward started. "Hm? Oh, um, not really, some people have blond hair but I don't think there are many people with golden eyes."

"Did you inherit them from your father?"

Edward's mouth turned downwards. "My bastard father doesn't have anything to do with this. What are you playing at?"

\---

_Ninety-something years ago, Hogwarts Castle_

Dumbledore watched as Van Hohenheim packed up all his belongings. Even though the man had taught at Hogwarts for almost a decade, Hohenheim had few possessions.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you'd stay for a little longer."

Hohenheim smiled. "I've stayed here long enough, Albus. Armando has already approved."

Albus chuckled. "Without you, who will reign me in when I go for drinks?"

Hohenheim said dryly, "I'm pretty sure it was you who reigned me in."

"Sad that both of us never managed to get a lady."

The blond-haired man sighed regretfully. "Eh, there's always time in the future. Don't fret too hard on these things, Albus."

Albus patted the forty-something year old on the shoulder. "You're only a few years older than me, Hohenheim, but you talk like an old man."

Hohenheim huffed. "Wait till you get your first grey hair, Albus. I'll be the one laughing then."

Albus chuckled. "We'll miss you, Heim. You taught the students well. They'll miss you even more than me."

Van Hohenheim put on his coat. Strangely enough, during Hohenheim's time teaching, he rarely donned the normal robes that most professors wore, but preferred the tailored suits that he always wore. Albus had never seen him out of a muggle dress shirt and tie.

"I learned all I needed to in this place, Albus. Keep it safe, alright?"

Albus hefted Hohenheim's bag. "Yeah, yeah. I'm staying here, Heim. Hogwarts is my home, always has been, always will. I'll wait for you if you decide to come back."

The two friends walked down the old pathway. "I'll apparate you to the train station."

"That would be much appreciated."

_Waiting for the train, at King's Cross._

Albus stared in wonder at the train across from their station. "I never did get over my curiosity of trains. Very smart of muggles. Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes, I will. Don't worry about me, Albus. I am a muggle, after all."

Albus stared at Van Hohenheim. After nine years of teaching alongside him, he still didn't believe Hohenheim was entirely a muggle. Alchemy could be learned by anyone, but there had been certain...events that led him to believe Hohenheim was more than human or wizard. He claimed he was forty-six, but the haunted look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

"Send me some letters, will you?"

The two men shook hands.

"Bye, Hohenheim. Maybe I'll visit you in Amestris."

"Maybe, maybe. Well then, good luck with you, Albus."

"Farewell, Hohenheim."

\---

_Present_

Dumbledore waved a hand. "Nothing, nothing. Just an old man's thoughts. Now, we better get going."

Edward looked around, expecting a carriage to appear. "Where?"

The old man chuckled. "I forgot you do not know what apparation is. Please hang on to my arm."

Edward suspiciously clutched Dumbledore with his left hand.

And they disappeared.

The two reappeared, in front of a building. The first thing Edward did was let go of Dumbledore and breathe in deeply, hands on his knees. He felt horrible.

The hell was that? One second we were standing in Amestris in Central, then there was darkness and then-

Ed looked up. They were in front of multiple large buildings, in fact. He glanced down the streets, where lights flickered on on lamposts that looked so very different from Central's.

"Where _are_ we?" Edward managed to slur out, amid his dizzy mind.

"Sorry about the apparation. It's always the hardest at first. We are, to put it simply, at our destination." Dumbledore handed a slip of paper to Edward, thin and slanted handwriting on it.

Shit, I forgot I had to learn how to read and write in English.

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore waved his wand again, and the words on the slip of paper translated into Amestrian. "There you go, Mr. Elric."

The paper read, _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

"After you memorize, destroy it in whatever way you wish."

Edward looked up from the piece of paper. "So we're at number twelve-" he frowned. "There's a mistake. The two buildings here are labelled eleven and thirteen."

"That's where magic comes in, Edward.

Immediately buildings eleven and thirteen moved to the side, and it was as if another building sprung up, with the number twelve on the front.

Edward's mind spun. "Wha-what-" he stammered. "No, there's the Equivalent Exchange, there must have been brick underneath the ground, and you...transmuted it? No, you didn't move your hands, but-"

"I'm afraid you must come to terms that magic and alchemy are vastly different, Mister Elric. You will know this in due time at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore held out a hand, which Ed reluctantly shook. "This is the Order of the Phoenix. We are an undercover movement working to stop Voldemort, a notorious Dark Wizard from rising to power. Welcome, Edward. Harry Potter resides in twelve Grimmauld Place."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Have you been notified of his status?"

"Just that I'm supposed to protect this twerp."

Better get this mission over with so I can go back to Central.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Something along the sort." He glanced at his own watch. "It's late, but I expect most people are still up. I'll see you at Hogwarts, Professor Elric."

Edward blinked, and Dumbledore was gone, seemingly without a trace.

_He's gone._

_Professor Elric._

_That has a nice ring to it._

Edward sighed. He set his bags down and knocked, using the door knocker that was in the shape of a twisted serpent.

_What a weird door knocker._

The door opened to reveal a thin man. He had a kind face, but it was offset by thin scars across his face. He wore muggle clothing, to Edward's relief.

"I'm Edward Elric. The new Alchemy professor."

The man blinked down at him. "Really, we weren't expecting you to be this-"

_Call me short._

_Or small._

_I DARE you to._

But no, the man finished the sentence off with "-young. Please, come in."

He helped Edward with his bags. "You can call me Remus, Remus Lupin."

"Your name is from Latin?"

Remus looked, surprised at Edward. "Yes, how do you know?"

"Eh, Alchemy interlocks with Latin a lot, so I thought to learn-" Edward gagged, realizing he just finished his sentence in Amestrian.

_The spell wore off._

He pointed at his throat to Lupin. Luckily, Lupin understood. "Oh, no worries, just let me renew the translation charm."

"Thank you, Remus."

'No problem."

They reached a door, in which Remus opened. "Everyone?"

There was a fair amount of people, with looks that Edward had never seen before. Flaming red hair on a portly woman, for one, to a young woman with purple hair.

There were two other people with scarlet hair, the same as the woman. An older man, and someone who probably wasn't past twenty. They might be related. 

The young man had scarlet hair that was longer than Edwards, which Edward looked at enviously. He also had a fang in one ear, which Edward could only think of as _badass_.

"Remus" greeted the woman with red hair. She looked to be around middle-aged, with kind eyes. She glanced at Edward. "Who are you, dear?"

Ed clicked his heels together. "My name is Edward Elric, ma'am. Pleased to meet you."

She laughed, a warm chuckle. "How polite! No need for formalities, dearie. Why are you here?"

"I'm the Alchemy professor."

Her laugh stopped halfway. "You?"

Edward tugged on his braid self-consciously."Yep."

"But you're a child!"

Edward grimaced. "I'm not a child! I've been a State Alchemist and the military for three years!"

The red-haired woman gulped. "You, a professor and part of the order? That's horrible! No, no, you shouldn't burden yourself with the Order but if you're also teaching-" She heaved. "-a child soldier? If your military has child soldiers, then-

"Molly."

The red-haired woman, evidently named Molly, stopped to look at a tall man with shoulder-length black hair. His eyes were sharp as he addressed her.

"Molly, I'm sure Amestris has different beliefs in this sort of thing, if the boy's a professor that means he's a professor, easy enough-"

"But still!"

She stalked away. The young women with purple hair peered curiously at Edward. "Can you, er, do alchemy?"

"Yeah, watch." He set down his travelling bag. He clapped his hands and slapped them against the wood table. There was a flash of lightning, and where the table was stood a small armoured figure made out of wood, protruding from the table.

"Wow!" The woman bent down to take a closer look at the mini-Alphonse figure Edward had created, when she bumped over an umbrella stand.

Crash! She fell onto the ground. Edward made to help her up. But that wasn't the worst of it. As soon as she fell, there was another scream. It was bloodchilling, echoing throughout the massive place.

"Filth! Scum! Byproducts of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"

Edward clapped his hands over his head, wincing as his automail arm hit his head a little too hard.

Where is that sound coming from? It seems to reverberate against the walls, maybe a hidden speaker? But that would require wire-

He saw that the man with black hair, the one that had spoken up for him had leapt out of his seat, racing for a portrait down the hall. Curious, Edward followed him, amid the cruel shrieking.

When he went down the hall, he was in for a shock. The portraits were moving and screaming, all of them, with the most lifelike tendencies. It was like they were trapped on the other side of a window.

_They're moving? Did someone transmute a soul to that-?_

The loudest sound was coming from a life-size portrait of an old hag woman. She was extremely ugly, to put it simply. She was screaming at the black-haired man, who was trying to close the curtains surrounding her portrait.

"I-said-shut-UP!" He roared, closing them with a final tug.

It was as if that had quelled her screams, leaving only echoes. Just then, a group of teenagers walked down. In the lead was a gangly-looking boy that looked too skinny. He wore a pair of circular glasses in front of emerald green eyes. Behind him was a girl with bushy brown hair and three boys and another girl, all with the same scarlet red hair as the woman back in the room.

The man swept his hair from his face and addressed the boy in front, "Hello, Harry. I see you've met my mother."

_Harry Potter? The skinny kid I see in front?_

_That's whom I'm supposed to keep an eye on?_

The redhead behind Harry said "Oi, Sirius, who's the midget behind you?"

That was all it took to put Edward into a rage. He snarled, striding up to the boy. It wasn't fair, that the redhead was so ridiculously tall and Edward had to tilt his head back to look him in the eye. He scrunched the front of the boy's shirt.

"I. AM. NOT. SHORT!"

The boy put up his hands. "Sorry, sorry! Yeesh, mate."

Two more redheads popped in front of him. Good God, were the redheads everywhere? But these looked a lot more similar than the others, so they must be twins.

"But I still think, the real question is-"

"- _who_ are you?"

It was discerning, how they finished each other's sentences.

"I'm Professor Elric," Edward said slowly. "The new Alchemy professor at Hogwarts."

They stared. But before anyone could say anything else, the tall man (who was presumably named Sirius) ushered them downstairs. "Come on, the meeting's done, let's go down for dinner, shall we?"

Edward agreed with that. He was starving.

The kitchen was a cavernous room with rough stone walls. The red haired woman and man were already in the kitchen, preparing food. But what made Ed's mouth drop was how the vegetables were floating in the air, dunking themselves into the sink and washing themselves, supervised by the man.

Edward tapped Sirius on the shoulder. "How are they doing that?" He asked, voice full of wonder. "They aren't doing anything but the food is still floating, how are they-"

Sirius chuckled. "You see her wand?" He saw a thin stick being held by the scarlet haired woman.

_Oh, yeah. Her name is Molly._

"That's all magic. Every part of it."

Edward gaped.

"Fellow looks like he hasn't seen magic a day in his life" muttered one of the redheads. Edward whipped around, golden eyes flashing. "Shut your goddamn trap."

They made a quiet group as they took seats around the kitchen table.

The skinny one, Harry Potter started talking with Sirius. It seemed Harry was upset about something and Sirius was consoling him. They were talking too fast for Edward to completely understand it, but he caught the words dementors, Ministry of Magic, Voldemort, and Phoenix.

Then Sirius said something about cleaning up the place when there was a loud crash.

"Fred-George-NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Molly shrieked. A large cauldron of what appeared to be stew, a flagon of what looked like a brown drink, and a breadboard with a knife came speeding towards them. Ed, Harry, and Sirius dove to the ground. Ed winced, as his automail leg hit the ground before his real leg, making a _thump_ that did not feel good.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Molly. "THERE WAS NO NEED-I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS-JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY LITTLE THING!"

The twins began cleaning up the messes, one saying "sorry, mum, we were just trying to save a bit of time!" While the other yanked the knife out of the table.

_Their names are Fred and George. It's a wonder how their mother can separate them._

_So it appears some people aren't allowed to use magic, but the twins are allowed._

_I guess magic has some disadvantages._

"Boys-" began the red haired man, probably their father. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age-"

"— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again.

_It's kind of funny._

"Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy —" She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

_That lady has a lot of kids, some who don't like her, that's for sure._

"Let's eat," said Bill quickly. "It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table. For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food.

Edward dug in, ravenous. The food was a different style compared to Amestris food, but it was still well-made. Edward could feel a few people's stares at his head but he ignored them, focusing on his food.

_Don't give a crap what people think of me. Just eat, get the freaking job done, and leave._

Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Sirius indifferently.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too," Mrs. Weasley went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

Edward heard a lot of things in a few different conversations. Once, when he looked up from eating he saw the same girl that had been around the table earlier, changing her hair from pink to purple. While Ed was still gawking about her hair colour she began changing her face, from a pig snout to duck lips.

He didn't understand a thing about anything.

_That's got to change._

Edward stood up, his automail leg creaking slightly.

"Oi!"

Everyone stared at him. Edward went on. "First, thanks for the food, really tasty. But now-" Edward rubbed his gloved hands together. "-someone, please tell me what the hell is going on."

Stunned silence. "...Dumbledore never told you?"

Ed shrugged. "He only told there's an order, and-"

I suspect the Potter boy would not appreciate me saying I'm supposed to protect him.

"-that I'd be teaching at Hogwarts starting September first. So, first thing's first. Who is Voldemort?"

The atmosphere of the room changed dramatically. The adults sat up straighter, the teens exchanging uneasy glances.

Remus leaned forward. "Tell me, Edward, what do you know of a Wizarding War?"

"When?"

"The War ended around fifteen years ago."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "No, I don't know of a Wizarding War fifteen years ago. Amestris had just entered another Civil War at that time."

"Amestris is known for causing strife amongst its neighbors, is it not?"

Edward shrugged. "More or less. But what does this have to do with Voldemort?"

They cringed at the name. "Voldemort is an evil wizard who has fought for the Dark for as long as anyone can remember. He wants power, and that is the thing out of his grasp."

"So what does this have to do with Harry Potter?" He glanced at the boy as he said it. Harry scowled back. "Voldemort killed my parents" he began with little preamble. "when I was a baby." The red-haired woman patted his shoulder. "Now, Harry, you don't need to explain such a sad event-"

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley. Well, so Voldemort tried to kill me too, but he failed, and he lost his powers. But now he's back." Harry glanced around the table. "That's the short version."

_This voldy-who sounds a little bit like the Fuhrer._

Molly's name is Mrs. Weasley, so I guess they would be Ron, Fred, and George Weasely. Weird name.

"So what am I supposed to do?" He looked around the table, staring at the adults in the eye. Lupin shifted. "Well, there were a few things we had in mind, but we didn't know you were going to be so young. Most of our delegations are for the adults, you see."

Edward ground his teeth.

_You're too young, you're too small._

_It was like they didn't want him to do anything._

Molly stood up.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," she said on a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort, but it appears Elric beat you to it."

"I did!" said Harry indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

_I guess the stupidly tall redhead is named Ron and the girl with bushy hair is Hermione. What weird names._

"And they're quite right," said Mrs. Weasley. "You're too young."

_If I had a nickel every time someone said that to me, I'd be richer than the Armstrongs._

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen —"

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly. "How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

" 'You're too young, you're not in the Order,' " said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though ready-ing himself for a fight.

_Ah, so I'm not the only person who isn't fond of the old man._

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

_"needs to know." Yeah, right._

Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George's heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

Edward watched with hungry eyes, cataloging every single detail for further use.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," said Sirius. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back" (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name that Edward simply did not understand, what was the use of being scared of a name?), "he has more right than most to —"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" said Mrs. Weasley. "He's only fifteen and —"

I'm technically a member, right? And I'm fifteen. What's the big deal?

"— and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Sirius, "and more than some —"

"No one's denying what he's done!" said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still-"

"He's not a child!" said Sirius impatiently.

_Damn right he's not._

"He's not an adult either!" said Molly, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," said Sirius coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" said Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!" said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. "You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

_So Harry's father was named James, and Sirius was good friends with him. Yeesh, everyone's so loud._

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

 _And he was a_ godfather _? No wonder these wizards acted like they didn't have brains._

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" said Sirius loudly. "Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband. "Arthur, back me up!"

Arthur, or Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he say, "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —"

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes! Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well . . . I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart —"

"He's not your son," said Sirius quietly.

"He's as good as," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

_The hell is Azkaban?_

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

_Finally, someone said it!_

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said at once.

"Very well," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — I want you out of this

kitchen, now." There was instant uproar. "We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together. "If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron.

"Mum, I want to!" wailed Ginny.

Then, of course, someone had to reign Edward into it. The twins pointed at Ed.

"He's younger than us-"

"-he's staying, no one is objecting, it's not fair!"

Lupin interjected. "Mister Elric is a professor, I'm sure he is older than he looks, he wouldn't be here otherwise-"

Ron interrupted. "Oh yeah?" He jabbed at Edward. "How old are you?"

Edward bristled. "I'm fifteen, what about it?" He barked.

The table was still, if only for a moment."

"You're fifteen?"

"You aren't even done school!"

"How are you supposed to teach!"

"That's horrible!" Wailed Mrs. Weasley. "I thought you were young, but fifteen is underage! How did you get a job?"

"I just did." Edward shrugged. "What's the big deal with letting them listen?"

"NO!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid —"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," said Mr. Weasley wearily.

"They are of age —"

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr. Weasley in the same tired voice.

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face. "I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" said Ron hotly. "Won't — won't you?" he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

" 'Course I will," Harry said. Ron and Hermione beamed.

"Fine!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Black's earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

"Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?"

Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that had been obsessing him for a month.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —"

Edward scoffed. "You stupid? They wouldn't do that. They need to get more cover."

Harry glared at him. "Oh yeah? What do you know?"

Edward set a glass of water down "Way more than you, that's for sure."

"You're a foreigner, you don't know anything about our country!"

Edward slammed his (thankfully, his left hand) on the table. "Bull!"

_Your villain has awakened, but he doesn't have any power._

_Our bad guys, the Homunculus, they've had hundreds of years to prepare._

"But anyways" Sirius said hurriedly, "Harry, you've put a dent in his plan. He was going to kill you last year, but you survived, you lived to tell us! So now he's laying low, afraid of Dumbledore."

Edward spat out his water. "Dumbledore? That old coot?"

Sirius and Lupin laughed. "Edward, we'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that" Lupin said amiably. "Dumbledore's one of the most powerful wizards in the world. It's nice to have him on our side."

"So, what are we doing about it?"

"First off, we need to inform people that Voldemort has returned," Sirius said grimly. "But it's hard. The Ministry refuses to believe he's back."

Useless government.

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin, and Tonks. Edward took another drink of his water. "You're letting people know he's back?"

They all smiled humourlessly. 

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius restlessly.

_Only ten thousand? I bet I would rack up more money if I was on the run._

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

Edward gaped.

 _Werewolf_?

A werewolf, he knew from fantasy stories, was a man who turned into a wolf during the full moon. But the skinny and tired man, with scars on his face, looked so harmless.

Now that he thought of it, a description of a werewolf sounded suspiciously like a Chimera...

"Wait a minute," Ed said, rounding on Lupin. "You-you're a werewolf?"

"That's it," Lupin said in an easy voice, although his eyes were hard. "Is there a problem?"

"Are you a chimera?"

Lupin looked taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Edward muttered to himself. "No, there haven't been any alchemists in London, there would be no one to perform the transmutation, but a werewolf...to capture a wolf, but then the human-"

"Can we continue this conversation later, please, Edward?"

Ed nodded.

I'll need to write notes.

"But anyways, Tonks and Arthur will lose their jobs if they talk like that, the Ministry's been cranking down really hard lately..."

"One thing we know for sure, is You-Know-Who's planning something bigger this time."

_What's with the name?_

_Of course he's planning something bigger. He's fallen once, he's going to get more power this time. Why are wizards so dense?_

"What?" Asked Harry. "Something worse than the Avada-Kedavra-?"

"That's enough!" Mrs. Weasley clearly had had enough of the conversation. "I want you in bed now, all of you. That includes you, Edward."

Edward twisted his mouth.

_It's late anyways. Better sleep now._

"...Yes, ma'am."

"Please, just call me Mrs. Weasley."

He followed the group upstairs, slinging his bag over his back and carrying his suitcase.

"Edward, dear, there's an empty guest room opposite from Harry and Ron's room, you can take that one." Edward nodded his thanks.

"Ron, twins, get Edward acquainted with his room, I need to go downstairs for a second-" she bustled downstairs. Fred (or George?) lifted Ed's suitcase.

"Blimey, mate. Heavy as bricks."

Edward scowled. "Be careful with them. That's the material you're going to be taught this year."

The twins chuckled. "You seem okay, Mister Edward."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ron opened the door. The room was covered in dust, but with a flick of a wand the twins cleaned it up. In the bedroom was one bed and one desk. Nothing more, nothing less.

"It's a bit bare, but it's good." Ron glanced at Ed. "Bathroom's on the right. Lock your door at night, there's a house-elf on the loose."

Edward didn't know what a house-elf was. He figured it could wait till tomorrow, but he made a note to lock his door.

"Thanks."

He waited until they had retreated into their own rooms that Ed relaxed. He locked his door like Ron had suggested, and flopped onto the bed.

it squeaked, and hidden dust rained onto the floor.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

_It's late, I should go to sleep. I'll write to Al tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [An amazing Russian translation of “Alchemist in the Order”](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9924536)
> 
> Don’t forget to comment your thoughts down!


	2. Doxycide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, thank you to everyone who gave kudos and commented, it means so much to me! 
> 
> I did not put this in the first chapter, so let me get this off my chest: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood or Harry Potter, these epic works belong to the very awesome and amazing Hiromu Arakawa and J.K Rowling!
> 
> Now, onwards with the story!

"What do you think-"

"-of the new professor, Harry?"

Harry thought for a moment. It was dark, and the twins had just appeared into he and ron's room as soon as Mrs. Weasley had gone downstairs.

"He's snarky. I don't like him much."

One of the twins took a seat beside Harry on his bed. "Well said, Harry. He acts like he's better than us." Pause. "Well, he must be pretty smart, to be the new Alchemy professor."

Ron scoffed, from where he lay on the other side of the room. "Or he's a total twat like Lockhart. I mean, in the military? Who does he think he is?"

"I guess we'll see."

"But he's so young. He said he was fifteen."

"Maybe he's a prodigy, just like Sirius said." Harry turned away from the twins, taking his glasses off and putting them on the nightstand.

"I'd like to see some Alchemy-"

"-Alchemy hasn't been in England for a long time-"

"-maybe he can turn lead into gold!"

Harry yawned. He was tired, but he wanted to talk more with the Weasleys.

"So, what d'you reckon the weapon Sirius talked about was?"

\---

Edward gritted his teeth. Harry and the Weasleys next door obviously didn't care that he was trying to sleep. Edward covered his head with a pillow, shifting his head.

_This place better have a library._

\---

Edward woke up from a dreamless sleep. He swore he heard birds chirping somewhere. Ed turned in his sleep, barely half-awake.

"Al..." he muttered. "...go..close the...windows...don't wanna get..up..." he shifted, opening his eyes the smallest bit to yell at his brother. The first thing that caught Edward's eye was the black door with a grey handle in front of him.

The doors at Central were brown.

Edward lept out of bed, surveying his surroundings. He wasn't in Central. Gone was his ornate mahogany desk and dragon paperweight, to be replaced by a simple desk.

He glanced to the floor, where there was a suitcase and travel bag.

_Oh._

_I had hoped it was a bad dream._

Ed glanced down. He was in a t- shirt and shorts, exposing his metal arm and leg.

_Better get changed first._

Ed trudged downstairs when he was done, tying his hair into a braid as he walked down the steps. He didn't know what time it was, only that it was fairly early.

 _Is anyone else awake_?

His answer was in the kitchen, when Ed poked his head in. Mrs. Weasley was standing with her back to him, cutting something. Edward slowly knocked on the side of the door.

"M-Mrs. Weasley?"

Ed cringed. The translation spell had worn off again, overnight. Mrs. Weasley turned around, eyes widening when she saw Ed. "Edward! Are you up already?"

Ed pointed sheepishly at his mouth.

_I should study more English._

Mrs. Weasley performed the charm in no time flat. Ed cleared his throat. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, do call me Mrs. Weasley."

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley. Force of habit."

She narrowed her eyes. "So your government does allow child soldiers."

"No, no," Edward said hastily, putting up his gloved hands. "I decided to join by choice. My colleagues are all adults, please don't worry."

_If Colonel Bastard's behavior can be called 'adult.'_

Molly stared at him a bit more, then sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "I don't care if you're a prodigy, or a professor, Edward, you're still fifteen. I'm just a bit worried for you."

Edward felt a pang in his heart, something that reminded him of his own mother's love. "Thank you."

She gestured to the table. There was toast, eggs and sausage, all in plentiful amounts. Edward dove in, taking great care to avoid the milk on the side.

Less than a minute later Sirius came down. He tucked his hair behind his ears, snagging a slice of toast off the table. "Good morning, Edward, Molly" he greeted tensely.

"Morning, Sirius," Molly replied stiffly.

_So they aren't over the spat they had last night._

Edward nodded to Sirius, wolfing down a piece of buttered toast and reaching for another. Sirius watched him. "You said you were military?"

Ed nodded, shoving more food in his mouth. "Yep. State Alchemist. Ranks equivalent to a Major."

"Wow. I didn't know you were so high up."

Edward stared at Sirius. "You know about-" he fumbled over the word. "muggle military?" Sirius nodded. "When I was a little older than you, I had a dream to fight somewhere. That was before the first Wizarding War, of course."

"Hmm."

"How'd you get promoted so fast?"

Ed waved a hand in the air. "Ishvalan Civil War. I fought for Amestris. We won. I got promoted."

The lie did not slip easily from his mouth. He thought of Dr. Knox and Marcoh. Colonel Mustang and Hughes. First Lieutenant Hawkeye. He was lying for something that they had risked their lives for.

But Sirius only made a small noise of agreement. Eager to change the subject, Ed asked, "you're Harry's godfather?" Sirius sipped a glass of juice. "Yeah, I am. Harry only found out two years ago."

"You have a ten-thousand galleon bounty on your head."

"I was accused of mass murder."

Edward continued eating as though he hadn't heard, finishing his fifth slice of bread and tackling the sausages and eggs with fresh vigor.

"Ed, you heard me, right?" Edward looked up to stare at Sirius in the eye. "I heard you. But the thing is-" he thought of Colonel Mustang.

_You know, they call us 'dogs of the military.' I know Mustang was one of the most useful alchemists during the Ishvalan War. I wonder how many lives he's taken._

"-I know a few people like you. So you're not that scary. Where's the library?" Sirius made a note of surprise. He pointed. "Library is down the hall and to the left. But you don't want to be there now. It hasn't been cleaned yet."

"I can handle a little dust."

"True, there's dust. But no, that's not what I'm talking about. There're probably more Doxies in the library, I think it's better we clean it up first."

"What are Doxies?"

"Oh, you don't know? Well, they're little creatures. Really ugly, they're all black, look like weird beetle-things. They like nesting in places that have been abandoned for a long time.

"Which is why you, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins will spend the morning cleaning up the Doxies" Mrs. Weasley said grimly, clearing away Ed's multiple empty plates from the table. "Goodness me, Edward, you've eaten as much as two or three people alone!" Immediately Ed felt embarrassed, he ducked his head down. "Sorry, ma'am" he mumbled.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to have recognized her mistake. "No, no, Ed, dear, I'm glad you're eating up, it makes me less worried. Can you please wake up the rest?"

 _What did she mean by_ 'it makes me less worried?' _Is Mrs. Weasley worried about me? Why would she be? I'm just someone she met yesterday. You can't possibly be worried about someone like me._

Edward walked upstairs, aware of his combat boots clicking with each step. Ed rubbed his arms. Amestris was warmer than England, that was for sure. He wasn't wearing his red cloak, he had left it in his room and he was beginning to regret the choice.

Ed paused in front of Ron and Harry's room. What was he supposed to do? In the military, soldiers would knock at a door and ask for permission (except Mustang, Edward would always barge in) but this wasn't the military.

_Al's right, you do overthink._

Taking an impulsive step forward Ed knocked, and when it was met with silence he opened the door. Ron and Harry lay sleeping in different positions on opposite sides of the room. Ron snored, with his mouth open while Harry's brow was rather furrowed.

"Wake up" Edward said, in a slightly raised voice.

Ron shifted, ever so slightly. But then he was back to sleep.

"I said, wake up." But the two were still sleeping.

Then, Edward did something. Something that he loathed with a special passion, one drilled into him along with military training. Edward sucked in a breath.

"WAKE UP!" Both boys jerked awake and gazed blearily at Edward. "Wha-who're you-?"

"Your mother has sent me to wake you up." Ron glared at Edward. "Don't want to." Ed grinned. He stuck out a finger, and started flicking the lights on and off. quickly. Very quickly.

It was something Mustang usually did to wake Ed up if he didn't wake up in time (or if Alphonse was too busy playing with cats to wake up his older brother). Mustang also did this when Edward was paying more attention to a book than he was to the Flame Alchemist.

Ron covered his eyes, while Harry squinted. "My eyes! The hell you doing-"

"Good. You're awake. We're supposed to be cleaning the house against Doxies, whatever they are."

"Urgh."

Edward continued to the twins' room, where he received much of the same results. Ignoring the twins' curses and threats Edward left with the door ajar, light on.

He stopped at the girls' room. He hesitated.

_They're girls._

_That would be inappropriate and mean to barge in._

Edward knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Thankfully, a sleepy voice answered on the fourth knock.

"Who is it?"

Ed cleared his throat. "It's Edward. Your mother has asked that you wake up and help with the chores." He left before he could hear an answer, but not before Ron shot him a dirty look.

Soon they all stood in the drawing room, with rags over their mouths and gloves over their hands, holding what Mrs. Weasley had called "Doxycide." It was a large spray bottle with black liquid inside of it, presumably the bane of Doxies.

"Cover your faces and take a spray, everyone when I tell you to-oh, hello, Sirius."

"Hello, Harry, everybody. Molly, you said you thought this was a boggart?" He dropped a bag onto the top of a cabinet which was shaking slightly. He peered through the keyhole. "Looks like a boggart, but I think we should wait for Mad-Eye to have a look first."

_What sort of name is Mad-Eye?_

_And the hell's a 'boggart?'_

Just then, the door rang and offset the portrait-screams, just as strange as Ed remembered from the night before. Sirius went to check out the new arrivals while Harry took a suspiciously long amount of time to close the drawing room door.

"Right, ready everyone?" Mrs. Weasley asked briskly. "Doxys have a poisonous bite, so be careful. I'd rather not need to use the antidote. A spray or two to the face should paralyze them. When you do that, throw them in the buckets." She gestured to the buckets on the ground.

"All right-squirt!"

Immediately everyone started squirting at the moldy curtains.

After barely spraying for a few seconds a Doxy jumped out of the curtains, fangs bared and eyes wide. Ed jumped back but still managed to spray it with a face full of Doxycide. It fell at his feet and Ed gingerly picked it up, examining its strange body full of black hair and its extra pair of limbs.

_Creepy creatures, these wizards have._

_I should send some diagrams to Al, he would be more curious than disgusted by these._

He threw it into a nearby bucket where they were already half a dozen Doxys in it. While spraying he caught a glimpse of the twins and Harry conversing in low tones and he swore he saw a Doxy in Fred's hand.

In the middle of spraying a Doxy flew at Edward with such fury it caught him off guard and Ed raised his right automail arm on instinct, blocking the poisonous bite the Doxy was about to deliver. It gnawed on Ed's arm fruitlessly, and Ed quickly sprayed it. He deftly plucked the paralyzed Doxy from his arm and threw it in a bucket that was overflowing with Doxys.

_Oh, right. They don't know about my automail arm._

_Or leg._

_Best to keep it that way._

_I hope no one saw that._

Finally, past twelve, they were all panting deeply and covered in sweat, the curtains damp with Doxycide. Paralyzed Doxies were on the ground, ankle-deep along with three buckets filling to the brim with what Mrs. Weasley said were Doxy eggs in which Ed shot a look of disgust at them.

"I think we'll tackle those after lunch." Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantlepiece. There was a selection of daggers so rusty they resembled brown batons, snakeskin in a neat coil, a number of tarnished silver boxes with some design that Ed couldn't make out, and what looked suspiciously like a vial of blood.

The doorbell rang again, starting up Mrs. Black's screams again. Mrs. Weasley rushed forward. "Don't worry about that. I'll bring up sandwiches after I'm done with the door."

She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window (Edward too, albeit a bit slowly) to look down onto the doorstep.

They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

_Edward stifled a snicker. So wizards do use cauldrons. Maybe they mix toads in it, along with snakes. Who am I kidding?_

"Mundungus!" said Hermione. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," said Harry. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view.

"Blimey, Mum won't like that. . . ."

Londoners talk weird. What's 'blimey?'

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening intently. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped again. "Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly . . . d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"Might be worth it," said George. "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair —"

But at that precise moment, before Edward could give a damn on what Extendable Ears were, there was an explosion of sound from downstairs. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs. Weasley's voice to permeate the room better. "It makes such a nice change."

"— COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE —"

"The idiots are letting her get into her stride," said George, shaking his head. "You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry — and there goes Sirius's mum again —"

Mrs. Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall. George made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery gray, and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of Harry and the rest, but Edward took clear notice of the house-elf.

Swearing, he stumbled back, almost hiding behind the twins. "What the hell is that?" He asked, pointing to the house-elf with no small amount of disgust and loathing. Fred steadied Ed, clutching his arm. "You don't have house-elves in Amestris?" At Edward's vehement shake of his head George pointed. "Watch."

Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, toward the far end of the room, muttering under its breath all the while in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrog's, ". . . Smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my Mistress's house, oh my poor Mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let in her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do. . . ."

"Hello, Kreacher," said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and then gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see Young Master," he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" said George. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

Edward didn't know whether to scream or kick the cursed thing out. The elf straightened up, eyeing them all very malevolently, and apparently convinced that they could not hear him as he continued to mutter.

". . . and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh if my Mistress knew, oh how she'd cry, and there's a new boy, Kreacher doesn't know his name, what is he doing here, Kreacher doesn't know . . ."

"This is Harry, Kreacher," said Hermione tentatively. "Harry Potter."

_Oh, right. Isn't Potter supposed to be famous? For something or other._

_Right, he supposedly defeated Voldy-something when he was a baby._

_Tch._

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's Mistress saw him in such company, oh what would she say —"

"Don't call her a Mudblood!" said Ron and Ginny together, very angrily.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione whispered, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's —"

"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.

"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's that boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it —"

"Don't we all, Kreacher?" said Fred. But Kreacher ignored him, staring at Ed instead. Edward shifted uncomfortably under the glass orbed eyes of Kreacher.

"Who is the boy with golden eyes and equally fair hair? Kreacher does not recognize him, he would recognize a foreigner like him-"

"What do you want anyway?" George asked. Kreacher's huge eyes darted onto George.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he said evasively.

"A likely story," said a voice behind Harry. The group turned to see Sirius.

Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs. Weasley and

Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow, that flattened his snout like nose on the floor.

"Stand up straight," said Sirius impatiently. "Now, what are you up to?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," the elf repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black —"

"— and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," said Sirius. "Master always liked his little joke," said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, "Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart —"

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," Sirius snapped. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."

Kreacher bowed again and said, "Whatever Master says," then muttered furiously, "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was —"

_If I had the same mother as Sirius I doubt I'd still be sane._

"I asked you what you were up to," said Sirius coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it —"

"I thought it might be that," said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher."

It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was redolent of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room. "— comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too —"

"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" said Sirius irritably, and he slammed the door shut on the elf.

"Why don't you just kill him?" Hermione looked aghast at Edward who had spoken, who was staring at where Kreacher had been. "Seems easy enough to do."

Sirius rubbed his temples. "You're right about that, Elric."

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," said Hermione pleadingly, "I don't think he realizes we can hear him."

"He's been alone too long," said Sirius, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little —"

"If you just set him free," said Hermione hopefully, "maybe —"

"We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order," said Sirius curtly. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."

"So what's a house-elf supposed to do?"

George and Fred glanced at Edward. "Most old wizarding families have a house-elf, they clean-"

"-And are supposed to follow whatever family members tell them to do. Most house-elves are pretty helpful, but Kreacher? He's just a little more than cracked in the head."

_Creepy._

"Lunch," said Mrs. Weasley's voice. She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Harry remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry.

Edward was one of the first to reach Mrs. Weasley, but upon seeing Hermione and Ginny in his peripheral vision he stepped aside to let them have first pick.

Ginny giggled, while Hermione blushed deeply. "Thanks, Edward." Ed dipped his head. Throughout his time with Mustang he'd picked up a few things, one being most important; be kind to the ladies. Although Mustang usually took it too far, and Ed had to drag him off.

_Argh, Colonel Bastard still peeves me when he's miles away._

Edward was approached by the Weasley twins when he was still eating. He stared at him "Hrgn?" He said, sandwich still in his mouth. "I still don't believe it," Fred said, jostling Edward. "You, our Alchemy professor?"

Ed swallowed his sandwich. "You better believe it, I'll be teaching you for nine months."

"Just wondering, Edward, do you know chemistry?" George wiggled his eyebrows. "Like, you know, components of what makes you sick, what makes you better-"

"What, you think I'm a novice?" Edward cut off George impatiently. "All Alchemists know and have a good understanding of chemistry and science, it's nothing special."

"Oh, cool."

Edward frowned. "Why?"

The twins shrugged in unison. "Like I said, just wondering."

They left him with a foreboding feeling.

Soon they were back to cleaning. Fortunately for him, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, as many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Sirius sustained a bad bite from a silver snuff box; within seconds, his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

"It's okay," he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, "must be Wartcap powder in there."

He threw the box aside into the sack where they were depositing the debris from the cabinets; Edward started. To be able to heal rashes with just a tap of a wand, it was a foreign concept to him. Ed made a mental note to remember everything to write down.

They found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up Harry's arm like a spider when he picked it up, and attempted to puncture his skin; Sirius seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy.

There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut; also a heavy locket that even Edward's automail hand couldn't force open, a number of ancient seals and, in a dusty box, a moldy certificate titled Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Sirius's grandfather for " _Services to the Ministry."_

Ed knew shit awards when he saw them, this person had probably donated gold and treasures. He showed it to Sirius who confirmed it. "He gave them a load of gold" Sirius said with no small amount of contempt. "How'd you know?"

"I work in the government, remember? I can't count the amount of times I've seen people suck up to higher-ups." He thought of Lieutenant Yoki, back in the coal mines.

Ron stared at him. "So you weren't lying when you said you were military?" He asked brashly. Edward raised an eyebrow. "No, I wouldn't lie about that."

Several times, Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it. When Sirius wrested a large golden ring bearing the Black crest from his grip Kreacher actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under his breath and calling Sirius names Ed nor Harry had never heard before.

"It was my father's," said Sirius, throwing the ring into the sack. "Kreacher wasn't quite as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught him snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week."

Mrs. Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took the whole day to decontaminate; finally the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk; Moody had not dropped by headquarters yet, so they could not be sure what was inside it.

In the dining room Ed opened the drawer where they found spiders as big as saucers, while he and the others were busy wrangling them Ron had mysteriously disappeared, to reappear as soon as they finished the room.

The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Ed still did not feel comfortable around talking portraits and photographs; it reminded him too much of transmutating a soul, although Sirius had reassured him the photographs were under magic and no one's soul had been harmed.

The doorbell rang in the afternoon, with Mrs. Weasley going to get it. Like usual, everyone dashed forward in the hopes of hearing something but this time Mrs. Weasley returned rather quickly pointing to Edward. "Ed, there's two people here to see you."

"Who is it?" Asked Harry. Mrs. Weasley pursued her lips. "It's Professor McGonagall and Snape. They probably want to talk to him about Hogwarts."

Ed walked forward, aware of eyes staring at him. He walked to the door, where there was a stern-looking woman and a sour-faced man waiting for them.

The woman spoke first. "Good afternoon. Are you Edward Elric?" Ed swallowed. "Yes, ma'am. I'm the Alchemy professor."

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts." Edward stuck out his left hand and they shook briefly. Minerva nodded towards the man. Not only was his face that was unhappy, his hair was shoulder length and rather greasy. "I'll let you introduce yourself, Severus."

The man stuck out his hand. "Severus Snape, Potions Master." They shook.

McGonagall regarded him. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen, ma'am."

"Only fifteen?"

Snape tilted his head. "Are you a State Alchemist? I remember Dumbledore telling us, a State Alchemist is a rather high rank for an Alchemist."

"Yessir."

"You're polite."

"Training, sir."

"What sort of training?"

"Military, sir."

McGonagall gasped. "You're in the military?"

"Yes, ma'am. Been in the military for three years."

She shook her head. "Good heavens!"

"Now, now." Snape's eyes bored into his. "You may just survive what's coming ahead. I'm sure you've been briefed? Dark Forces are rising."

"I know."

He turned. "We'll talk more at Hogwarts, it's safer. Goodbye, Professor Elric."

It was nice that one person didn't underestimate him. McGonagall walked after Snape, nodding at Edward. "Stay safe, Edward. We'll see you in September first."

"Good day, ma'am, sir."

\---

Snape waited until McGonagall had closed the door until he started talking.

"What do you think of the boy-sorry, the professor?"

She sighed. "He's still a boy, Severus, whichever way you look at it. Goodness me, those Amestrians, if they allow child soldiers..."

"He may put a twist in Umbridge's hair."

McGonagall scowled. "Is that whom we're getting?"

"It appears so."

"How terrible."

"Indeed."

"Do you think he can teach the students?"

Severus took out a small paper. On it was a little photograph of Edward Elric, and text underneath. " _Served in the Ishvalan War_ " he read. " _Honourable discharge_. I think he can teach the students in alchemy, alright. I just hope he doesn't tell off Umbridge."

"He will."

Little did they know, Edward Elric had not fought in the Ishvalan War. He did not face a common enemy with comrades in arms. No, he faced Death in the face, alone except for his little brother's soul.

\---

Edward stomped back into the dining room. As soon as he'd stepped in he was swarmed.

"So what'd they tell you?"

Ed frowned. "All they did was introduce themselves, and that they'd see me when school starts."

"Oh."

He left, retreating to the library before they could think of more ingenious questions. He had helped out, hadn't he? He deserved a break.

\---

Edward felt like smashing his face against the dusty wooden table.

_Rubbish. Trash. Garbage._

Those were the contents of almost every single book in the Black Library. Pages and pages of praising "pureblood-lines" and "the superior race." It made Ed sick. Now that he thought of it, he dimly remembered Sirius saying something about his family. They were...crazy? Bigheaded? Something?

_I should write a report._

_Better sooner than later._

_I'll write to Alphonse too, while I'm at it._

In his room, Edward made quick work of the report, stating the most mundane things he could remember. As soon as he finished scrawling that he set it aside to write to his little brother.

_Dear Alphonse,_

_First off, wizards are crazy._

_They have these magic sticks they call wands that can do almost everything, from lifting vegetables to healing minor wounds. But I think there's a certain rule concerning underage magic, so the adults perform most of the magic._

_The creatures. You would probably like them, but I don't. There is something called a Doxy that resembles a hairy insect that looks absolutely horrifying, but you would find some way to call them 'cute.'_

_Hogwarts hasn't started yet, I'm staying at an old wizarding house. Their library is massive but the books are complete garbage. I shudder to think of the students I have to teach. I'm living with another wizarding family, called the Weasleys. They're all scarlet-haired and there's too many of them for my taste, along with another girl and boy. The boy's name is Harry Potter, remember what I told you? I'm supposed to watch out for the brat. I'll tell you what happens next later._

_I hope the owl doesn't scare you._

_Give Colonel Bastard my regards._

_Miss you,_

_Edward_

He folded the letter and report, getting ready to send it when he realized how he was going to send it? They weren't allowed outside, much to Ed's chagrin, so how would it be delivered?

Edward walked down the stairs. He saw Harry and the others sitting by the fire. He cleared his throat. "I wrote a report to Central City, but how can I send it there?"

"You don't know? Wizards send their post by owl." Replied Ginny. Harry raised his hand. "Would you like to borrow mine? You can buy your own owl later."

Edward nodded. "Thanks, Harry."

\---

As Harry led Ed upstairs there was an undeniable air of awkwardness around them. The two boys hadn't talked a lot, more like not at all.

Harry wasn't tall for his age, spending most of his life living in a cupboard probably had something to do with it. Harry was average, maybe an inch or two shorter. But being beside Edward, Harry felt tall.

Ed was, well, short, but after Edward's first meeting with Ron Harry took great care not to say it. Maybe another thing making everything more awkward was the constant click of Edward's boots. They resembled those boots soldiers wore in movies.

_His boots sure are click-y._

_I wonder, he said he's in the military, has he been in any wars?_

Edward pointed to his room's door. "I'm going to get my letter."

Harry poked a head in Ed's room while the other one was getting his letter. Ed's room wasn't nearly as messy as Harry and Ron's. Ed waved a letter in his hand. "So we just tie this to the owl?"

"Yeah, you tie it to the owl's leg."

"How does it know where to go?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged, opening the door to his own room. Hedwig cooed softly from the other side of the room. Ed stared. "You just keep her here?" Harry petted his owl. "Yeah. I wish I could let her out, but Dumbledore doesn't want too much attention. He'll make an exception for this, though. Here, put out your hand."

Edward stuck out his left hand, watching as Hedwig regarded it, then she stuck out her leg. Edward tied it on with no small amount of trepidation, and he and Harry watched as Hedwig flew away.

"How long will it take for her to come back?"

"Amestris is really far away, right?" Harry tilted his head. "Maybe a week at the most?" They heard Mrs. Weasley call from downstairs, "Dinner!"

\---

Edward dug with his usual vigor. He sat across from Harry, and Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry to say something. Edward caught something about "-best clothes-," "wash..hair-" and lastly "-a good first impression can work wonders." There was silence, prompting Edward to stop eating at the moment. He looked around. "What's going on?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I forgot you don't know, Ed. Harry was, er, attacked by dementors, one of the most dangerous creatures of the wizarding world. He used magic, and, well, the Ministry's trying to expel him."

"How am I getting there?" Asked Harry, eager to change the subject.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him," said Mrs. Weasley gently.

Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table, but then he frowned. "Oh, now I remember." He pulled out a piece of paper from inside his jacket. "The Ministry wants Edward to attend the hearing."

Edward started. "Huh? Why do they want me in a hearing?" He reached for the paper in Mr. Weasley's hand.

"I don't know, Edward. But it's best you come anyway."

Ed unfolded the paper. The first thing he registered was a stamp, the Ministry's official seal. Then a letter addressed to "Harry Potter" that was rather short.

_To Harry Potter, concerning his hearing tomorrow,_

_As a reminder, we expect Mister Edward Elric, Alchemy Professor of Hogwarts, to attend your hearing._

_Good day,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper use of magic office_

_Ministry of Magic._

Ed handed the paper back to Mr. Weasley. "Why do they need me?"

"We can worry about that later. First, what are you going to wear?" Mrs. Weasley looked at Edward. The State Alchemist looked down self-consciously. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Ed, dear, for one, I don't think the Ministry will appreciate a professor wearing black leather and jeans, along with those boots." He cursed silently. It seemed even across the world, people didn't appreciate Ed's taste of fashion.

Edward ran a hand over his face. "Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Weasley is as motherly as always ;D And I think it's a little bit obvious how McGonagall feels about Edward as a State Alchemist. 
> 
> Don't be surprised, spending all that time with Colonel Mustang has given Ed a few manners!
> 
> Third chapter has been drafted already and is in the works! Stay tuned! Please comment, it will help me a lot!


	3. The Ministry of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos, I am very grateful to all of you!

He woke up early again, from a dreamless sleep.

_Today's Harry's hearing._

_And I have to go. Ugh._

He dug through his travel bag, finding two availible possibilites on what to wear. One one hand was what he wore to non-military related formals, a white dress shirt, black tie and beige vest. 

It worked relatively well during dinners out in Central. On the other, was his military uniform. Edward looked at it in disgust.

_If I wear the first one, I look old. If I wear the second one, I look like a blue nonsense._

_The Ministry probably wouldn't like an Amestris soldier...but they already know I'm a State Alchemist....I don't like the tie..._

Someone knocked on his door. "Edward, are you awake?" Ed quickly threw on his red cloak, hiding his automail limbs. He opened the door, seeing Mrs. Weasley on the other side.

"Mrs. Weasley, can you help me pick out an outfit?"

Molly blinked, looking rather taken aback, but she regained her composure, clapping her hands. "Oh, my, it's been so long since Ron and the others asked me-yes, yes, dear. Do you have anything in mind?"

Ed waved to his bed where the two outfits were spread out. "What do you think?"

In some small part of Edward's brain he thought this was embarassing, but hell, it wouldn't hurt to have Mrs. Weasley's opinion. She frowned, examining the tie and vest, and the military uniform.

Mrs. Weasley picked up the outer military jacket. It looked sort of like a fancy trenchcoat. "This blue is nice, Ed, and the shape looks fancy, like a long coat. do you have any vests that go with this?"

Edward frowned, looking at the beige vest on the bed. "Let me check." He rifled through his bag. "No, I don't."

"That's alright, dear. I think Ron has something in his room." She went to Ron's room, leaving Edward with an indistinguishable feeling. Mrs. Weasley really _was_ nice. Ron and the twins didn't know how lucky they were to have her.

_I didn't know how lucky I was to have mom either._

Mrs. Weasley came back, holding a navy vest similar to the military's colour. "This is good, Ed. I think you'd look nice if you wore the dress shirt and tie with Ron's vest over, and wearing the military coat over, right?"

_Huh, I never thought of that._

He nodded. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." She waited outside while he changed. Ed made sure to take care in braiding his hair today, trying not to miss a single strand (except for his antenna, of course). He pulled the coat over him, leaving the front unbuttoned. He checked himself in the mirror.

Shock.

_I look like Hohenheim._

_The suit._

_The tie._

_The face._

He shook his head. But the image still remained in his mind. He was already similar to Hohenheim, with golden eyes and blond hair, two traits that most didn't have together. Add his braid, some wrinkles, glasses-

He took a deep breath.

_You're not Hohenheim._

_You're better than the bastard._

_This outfit is the one Mrs. Weasley chose, it's fine._

Before he left the room he remembered to grab his passport and papers. It wouldn't do him any good to not have any paperwork. 

He walked out the door.

Mrs. Weasley clapped her hands. "You look very professional, Edward." Ed shrugged, checking his silver pocketwatch. "It's still early, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, but Arthur goes to work rather early. You and Harry can wait in his office."

"Okay. Is breakfast done yet?"

"Yes, Ed, in fact, Harry's already up."

Downstairs, was Harry already up, but there were others. Mr. Weasley, Remus, Sirius and Tonks sat at the table with Harry. It took Edward a moment to recall Tonks, then he remembered, she was the one who had changed her hair and face during the first dinner here. Today her hair was blonde and curly this morning, reminding Ed of Central's city girls. 

"Oh, good morning, Edward" came Lupin's mild greeting. "I wasn't expecting you to dress up for the hearing."

Ed ambled to the table, snatching a muffin off the table. "Eh, I do have a few standards" he said while chewing the muffin, mouth open.

"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

It seemed Harry did not have much of an appetite.

"Just — just toast, thanks," stammered Harry.

"Relax, Harry. Hearings are fine. Just eat, you'll regret it later." Harry sent a grieving look at Ed. "Easy for _you_ to say."

Ed shrugged. "At my State Alchemist Exam there were a bunch of higher-ups, but I just did what I did. Eat something, Harry."

Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, "What were you saying about Scrimgeour?"

"Oh . . . yeah . . . well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions. . . ."

Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required to join in the conversation, while Edward was out by default as he had no idea who Scrimgeour was. 

Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Mrs. Weasley sat down on his other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out creases across the shoulders. He wished she wouldn't.

". . . and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomor- row, I'm just t-t-too tired," Tonks finished, yawning hugely again.

"I'll cover for you," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway. . . ."

Mr. Weasley was not wearing wizard's robes but a pair of pin- striped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turned from Tonks to Harry.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged. "It'll all be over soon," Mr. Weasley said bracingly. "In a few hours' time you'll be cleared."

Harry said nothing. Edward finished his muffin and reached for another one.

"The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."

"Amelia Bones is okay, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."

Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.

"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."

Harry nodded again. Edward had to restrain his scoff; Sirius was probably the last person he'd expect to say something like that.

"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry's neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized that Mrs. Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head.

"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately. Harry shook his head. Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry.  
"I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off there than hanging around here, Harry, Edward."

"Okay," said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet. Edward grabbed a piece of toast, shoving it in his mouth and another biscuit for the road. "See you later."

"You'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks, patting him on the arm. "Good luck," said Lupin. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"And if it's not," said Sirius grimly, "I'll see to Amelia Bones for you. . . ."

Harry smiled weakly. Mrs. Weasley hugged him.

"We've all got our fingers crossed," she said. "Right," said Harry. "Well . . . see you later then."  
He followed Mr. Weasley and Edward upstairs and along the hall. He could hear

Sirius's mother grunting in her sleep behind her curtains. Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, gray dawn.

Edward curled his lip, disliking the mist. 

_Automail's acting up again._

_I really should've went to Winry's._

"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry asked Mr. Weasley, as they set off briskly around the square.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley, "but obviously you can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion . . . makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for. . . ."

Mr. Weasley kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked. Harry knew it was clenched around his wand. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little Under-ground station they found it already full of early morning commuters. As ever when he found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business, Mr. Weasley was hard put to contain his enthusiasm.

"Simply fabulous," he whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. "Wonderfully ingenious."

"They're out of order," said Harry and Edward in unison, pointing at the sign.

"Yes, but even so . . ." said Mr. Weasley, beaming fondly at them. They bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-looking guard

(Harry handled the transaction, as Mr. Weasley was not very good with Muggle money and Edward hadn't the faintest clue what a pound was) and five minutes later they were boarding an Underground train that rattled them off toward the center of London. 

Mr. Weasley kept anxiously checking and rechecking the Under- ground map above the windows.

"Four stops, Harry . . . three stops left now . . . two stops to go, Harry . . ."

They got off at a station in the very heart of London, swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases. Edward noted their clothes, the way London fashion was different to Amestris. 

Up the escalator they went, through the ticket barrier (Mr. Weasley delighted with the way the stile swallowed his ticket whilst Ed and Harry looked on with bemused expressions), and emerged onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.

"Where are we?" said Mr. Weasley blankly, and for one heart- stopping moment Harry thought they had gotten off at the wrong station despite Mr. Weasley's continual references to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes . . . this way, Harry, Ed," and led them down a side road.

"Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact I've never even used the visitor's entrance before."

The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the build- ings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Harry had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic.

"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood be- fore a heavily graffittied wall. "After you."

He opened the telephone box door.

Edward stepped in first, rather cautiously. 

_Isn't this just an old phone booth?_

Harry stepped inside next, wondering what on earth this was about. Mr. Weasley folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. 

It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Even worse, Edward was jammed beside Harry, his right elbow in his face. Harry could have sworn Ed's arm was harder, stiffer than a human's usual arm...

Mr. Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.

"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order too," Harry said. Edward grunted his agreement.

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr. Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see . . . six . . ." he dialed the number, "two . . . four . . . and another four . . . and another two . . ."

Suddenly, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.

Edward jumped, swearing wildly and Harry winced, Ed's elbow shoving his face even more. "What the heck is that?!"

"It's just magic, Edward." It felt new, to not be the one amazed by magic for once. Harry still remembered how he had felt, when he'd first found out he was a wizard.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er . . ." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; he compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Edward Elric and Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing. . . ."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badge with _Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing_ on it. There was another badge with the name _Edward Elric_ on it. Harry handed Edward's badge to the other boy and pinned his own badge to the front of his T-shirt.

Edward pinned his badge above the breast pocket of his military coat, as the voice spoke again.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry and Edward watched apprehensively as the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box until dark- ness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. 

After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice. Edward was the first one of the phone booth, stumbling as he tripped and landed hard on his left leg. Harry thought his leg sounded strangely _loud_. 

They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. 

The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Edward looked away from the individuals coming out of fireplaces; he was certain his brain might fry.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. 

The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"This way," said Mr. Weasley.

They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. 

As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:

_All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

Edward flipped a small gold coin into the fountain, barely making a splash as it sank down to to bottom. He saw Harry looking and nodded to the sign. 

_If I'm not expelled from Hogwarts, I'll put in ten Galleons,_ Harry found himself thinking desperately.

"Over here, Harry, Ed, don't get lost" said Mr. Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying _security_. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

"I'm escorting two visitors," said Mr. Weasley, gesturing toward Harry. "Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice. 

Harry and Ed walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long goldenrod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back. Then he moved on to Ed. When he waved it over Ed's head the goldenrod didn't make a sound. 

But as the goldenrod neared Ed's right arm it suddenly beeped, saying in a robotic voice, " _metal detected, steel and iron."_ Edward's mouth turned downwards, evidently unsurprised to the alert and handed a few papers to the wizard. The wizard read them over, then handed it back. "You're good."

"Why did it beep?" Harry whispered to Edward, but the boy pretended he couldn't hear. 

"Wands, now," grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"

"Yes," said Harry nervously.

"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

"Thank you."

"Hang on. . . ." said the wizard slowly.His eyes had darted from the silver visitor's badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.

"Thank you, Eric," said Mr. Weasley firmly. The wizard shrugged and gestured to Edward. "Where's your wand, lad?"

"Don't have one" Ed said, just as Mr. Weasley grabbed both boys by the shoulders, he steered them away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.

Jostled slightly by the crowd, Ed and Harry followed Mr. Weasley through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. 

Harry, Ed and Mr. Weasley joined the crowd around one of them. A big, bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box stood nearby. The box was emitting rasping noises. Edward leaned away from it. 

"All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr. Weasley.

"What've you got there, Bob?" asked Mr. Weasley, looking at the box.

"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. "We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."

_Breathing fire?_

_Crazy wizards and their crazy creatures_

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and Harry and Mr. Weasley moved in- side it with the rest of the crowd. Harry found himself jammed against the back wall of the lift. 

Several witches and wizards were looking at him curiously; he stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye, flattening his fringe as he did so. 

The witches and wizards were also watching Edward, in his trenchcoat-style jacket and tie, he was a mix between witch and wizard attire. He was also unusual to the eye, blond hair and equally blond-gold eyes.

The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same cool female voice Harry had heard in the telephone box rang out again.

"Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."

Ed shook his head. _What did they just say?_

The lift doors opened; Harry glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls; one of the wizards in the lift, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. 

The doors closed, the lift juddered upward again, and the woman's voice said, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport, in- corporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center."

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift. Harry and Ed stared up at them as they flapped idly around above his head; they were a pale violet color and he could see ministry of magic stamped along the edges of their wings.

Edward reached for one but the airplanes simply floated higher, away from his arm's reach. 

"Just Interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley muttered to him. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable . . . droppings all over the desks . . ."

As they clattered upward again, the memos flapped around the swaying lamp in the lift's ceiling.

"Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, in- corporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confeder- ation of Wizards, British Seats."

When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp in the ceiling flickered and flashed as they darted around it.

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

"'S'cuse," said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken (Edward made sure to stay away) and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Head- quarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley, Edward, Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. 

The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upward again, and then the doors opened and the voice said, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us, Harry, Ed, come on" said Mr. Weasley, and they followed the witch out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."

"Mr. Weasley," said Harry, as they passed a window through which sunlight was streaming, "aren't we underground?"

"Yes, we are," said Mr. Weasley, "those are enchanted windows; Magical Maintenance decide what weather we're getting every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay raise. . . . Just round here, Harry."

Edward shuddered. So _that_ was the feeling, the rush of cold air; they were underground. But this place didn't have the same tainted feel as Amestris. 

They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors, and emerged in a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. 

Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cu- bicle read auror headquarters.

Harry looked surreptitiously through the doorways as they passed. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. 

A scarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill's was sitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little farther along, a witch with a patch over her eye was talking over the top of her cubicle wall to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drew nearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"

"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm in rather a hurry."

They were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other, and when Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, Mr. Weasley stood on his foot. They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle.

Edward looked curiously between the two men. He hadn't met Shacklebolt yet, but the men's interaction was rather strange. 

Harry received a slight shock; Sirius's face was blinking down at him from every direction. Newspaper cuttings and old photographs. Ed elbowed Harry. "Isn't he wanted?"

Harry muttered, "whisper, Ed. Yeah, Sirius is wanted."

"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand, "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."

Kingsley tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."

"If you had read my report you would know that the term is 'firearms,' " said Mr. Weasley coolly. 

"And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles, we're extremely busy at the mo- ment." He dropped his voice and said, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."

Edward overheard this valuable snippet of conversation, putting it away in his head. _Mrs. Weasley. Making dinner. Meatballs._

He beckoned to Ed and Harry and led them out of Kingsley's cubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading _Misuse of Muggle Artifacts_.

Mr. Weasley's dingy office seemed to be slightly smaller than the broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammed inside it and there was barely room to move around them because of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls, on top of which were tottering piles of files. There were stains on the wall. 

Edward put a hand on the wall, wiping it on his pants when it came back sticky. 

The little wall space available bore witness to Mr. Weasley's obsessions; there were several posters of cars, including one of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes he seemed to have cut out of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug.

Edward looked around the room. 

_This is sad._

_But Mr. Weasley is nice. He knows when to be quiet, when to talk. Shouldn't he be promoted by now?_

Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley's overflowing in-tray was an old toaster that was hiccuping in a disconsolate way and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray. Harry noticed that Percy appeared to have walked out of it.

"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, Harry, doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."

Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins's desk while Mr. Weasley rifled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him.

"Ah," he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, "yes . . ." He flicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing — oh dear, what's this now?"

A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccuping toaster. Mr. Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, "'Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.' This is getting ridiculous. . . ."

"A regurgitating toilet?" Harry asked. Edward snickered, covering it up by coughing loudly. 

"Anti-Muggle pranksters," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing — well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those — those pumbles, I think they're called — you know, the ones who mend pipes and things —"

"Plumbers?"

"— exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it."

"Will it be Aurors who catch them?"

"Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol — ah, Harry, Ed, this is Perkins."

A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting.

"Oh Arthur!" he said desperately, without looking at Harry or Edward. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not, I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it — an urgent message came ten minutes ago —"

"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr. Weasley wearily, while Edward had to stifle yet another snicker.

"No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing — they've changed the time and venue — it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten —"

"Down in old — but they told me — Merlin's beard —"

Mr. Weasley glanced at the clock hanging dangerously on the wall while Edward pulled out his pocket watch. 

"Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!"

Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr. Weasley left the office at a run, Harry and Ed on his heels.

"Why have they changed the time?" Harry said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back at Perkins's desk.

"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it it would have been catastrophic!"

Edward thought, _Oh, I think I know why they changed it. If Harry missed it, the Daily Prophet would have had a field day. Not only does he perform magic he misses his hearing. Perfect efforts to expel a student._

Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button.

"Come ON!"

The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button.

"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "I can't think why they're doing it down there — unless — but no . . ."

A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.

Harry gasped for air from running, putting a hand against the wall for support. All Edward did was straighten his jacket, not looking the least out of breath. 

"The Atrium," said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.

"Morning, Arthur," he said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. "Don't often see you down here. . . ."

"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr. Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry.

"Ah, yes," said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. "Of course."

Harry barely had emotion to spare for Bode, but his unfaltering gaze did not make him feel any more comfortable.

"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.

"Quick, Harry, Ed" said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Harry expected them to go through it, but instead Mr. Weasley seized him by the arm and dragged him to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.

"Down here, down here," panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far . . . why they're doing it there . . ."

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Courtroom . . . ten . . . I think . . . we're nearly . . . yes."

Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

"Go on," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."

"Aren't — aren't you coming with — ?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!"

Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam's apple. Edward patted him on the shoulder. "It's a hearing, right?" Harry nodded shakily.

"Relax, it's going to be over soon." It was weird, comforting a boy the same age as him.

"Here, come on." Edward stretched a hand towards the iron handle and pulled, ushering Harry inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of fun with Edward's outfit, debating what he should wear. I decided against making him wear his military outfit for certain reasons but do not worry, that is for another occasion in the novel!
> 
> If any of you are worried about Alphonse and Mustang not making an appearance do not worry, I plan to have them in the story later on. 
> 
> Please comment, and thank you very much for reading!


	4. Harry's Disciplinary Hearing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much once again, to everyone who commented. These comments give me motivation to continue writing!

Harry gasped; he could not help himself.

The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had been here before: This was the place he had visited in- side Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.

The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell.

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late."

"Sorry," said Harry nervously. "I-I didn't know the time had changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. He had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them.

His footsteps echoed loudly, even louder than Ed's, as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked rather threateningly but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick he looked up at the people seated at the bench above.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left- hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed too with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Harry.

A broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding.

On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.

The monocle-wearing witch pointed to Edward. "Who are you?"

\---

Edward stepped forward, snapping to a salute when he saw the Minister of Magic. The lady on his left had asked who Edward was.

"Major Edward Elric, State Alchemist, Hogwarts Alchemy Professor, Ma'am."

_I hate how that sounds._

Fudge made a note of surprise, though it turned into a sneer. " _You_? The new Alchemy professor? He shuffled his papers. "I had my doubts about Dumbledore starting a new course, _Alchemy_ of all things, and consorting with Amestris, but _you_?"

Edward gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir." He took out his silver pocket watch, with the State Alchemist Crest.

"Paperwork?" He'd thought to trip Ed up, but Ed had thought ahead. He brought out his passport and Dumbledore's letter.

\---

Fudge clearly still didn't believe Ed, but carried on. "Very well," said the Minster. "The accused being present - finally - let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"Yes, sir," said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, ex- pecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came. Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley -"

"- Witness for the defense, Edward Elric and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck.

Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Harry and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.

The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. Some looked annoyed, others slightly fright- ened; two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.

A powerful emotion had risen in Harry's chest at the sight of Dum- bledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him. He wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumble- dore was not looking his way; he was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge.

"Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Dumble- dore. Yes. You - er - got our - er - message that the time and - er - place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done."

"Yes - well - I suppose we'll need another chair - I - Weasley, could you - ?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and two squashy chintz armchairs appeared out of nowhere next to Harry.

"Come now, Edward, take a seat. Standing for long can't be good for you."

Edward walked forward. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.

"Yes," said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."

He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy." He took another breath.

"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.

"Yes," Harry said.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using ille- gal magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but -"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

"Yes," said Harry, "but -"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but -"

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"

"Yes, but -"

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?

"Yes," said Harry angrily, "but I only used it because we were -"

\---

Edward watched as Fudge relentlessly grilled Harry, leaving no room for interruption.

_If Harry keeps this up, he's going to be expelled._

_He needs to grow a backbone, needs to be braver._

He smirked behind his hand.

_I remember when I pointed a spear at the Fuhrer._

_Okay, Harry doesn't need to be_ that _brave._

\---

The witch with the monocle on Fudge's left cut across him in a booming voice.

"You produced a fully fledged Patronus?" "Yes," said Harry, "because -"

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"A - what?" said Harry.

"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapor or smoke?"

"Yes," said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate, "it's a stag, it's always a stag."

"Always?" boomed Madam Bones. "You have produced a Patronus before now?"

"Yes," said Harry, "I've been doing it for over a year -" "And you are fifteen years old?"

"Yes, and -"

"You learned this at school?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the -"

\---

_Lupin taught at Hogwarts?_

_That reminds me, I never asked him about the whole werewolf thing._

_\---_

"Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at him, "a true Patronus at that age . . . very impressive indeed."

Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.

"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was," said Fudge in a testy voice. "In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!"

Those who had been frowning now murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded Harry into speech.

"I did it because of the dementors!" he said loudly, before anyone could interrupt him again.

\---

Ed's ear pricked when he heard Harry say that.

_Good. You stated the reason._

_Now you better continue that._

_\---_

Harry had expected more muttering, but the silence that fell seemed to be somehow denser than before.

"Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment, raising her thick eyebrows so that her monocle looked in danger of falling out. "What do you mean, boy?"

"I mean there were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin!"

"Ah," said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. "Yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."

"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said in tones of great surprise. "I don't understand -"

"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient . . . so it's just your word and no witnesses. . . ."

"I'm not lying!" said Harry loudly, over another outbreak of muttering from the court.

\---

_This guy's the Minister of Magic? A self-righteous coward?_

_I almost prefer the Fuhrer._

_Almost._

\---

"There were two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley, everything went dark and cold and my cousin felt them and ran for it -"

"Enough, enough!" said Fudge with a very supercilious look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story -"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Wizengamot fell silent again.

"We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of dementors in that alleyway," he said, "other than Dudley Dursley, I mean."

Fudge's plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself back together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more taradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly -"

"I may be wrong," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn’t that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?” he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle.

“True,” said Madam Bones. “Perfectly true.”

“Oh, very well, very well,” snapped Fudge. “Where is this person?”

“I brought her with me,” said Dumbledore. “She’s just outside the door. Should I — ?”

“No — Weasley, you go,” Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once, hurried down the stone steps from the judge’s balcony, and hastened past Dumbledore and Harry without glancing at them.

A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked scared and more batty than ever. Harry wished she had thought to change out of her carpet slippers.

Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs. Figg his chair, conjuring a third one for himself.

“Full name?” said Fudge loudly, when Mrs. Figg had perched herself nervously on the very edge of her seat.

“Arabella Doreen Figg,” said Mrs. Figg in her quavery voice.

“And who exactly are you?” said Fudge, in a bored and lofty voice.

\--

_He's trying to assert control again, after Dumbledore turned the tables._

_Fudge's doing a poor job of it._

_\---_

“I’m a resident of Little Whinging, close to where Harry Potter lives,” said Mrs. Figg.   
  
“We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter,” said Madam Bones at once. “That situation has always been closely monitored, given . . . given past events.”   
  
“I’m a Squib,” said Mrs. Figg. “So you wouldn’t have me registered, would you?”

\---

_What's a squib?_

_Sounds like "squid."_

_\---_

“A Squib, eh?” said Fudge, eyeing her suspiciously. “We’ll be checking that. You’ll leave details of your parentage with my assistant, Weasley. Incidentally, can Squibs see dementors?” he added, looking left and right along the bench where he sat, rather rudely.

\---

_Weasley?_

Edward looked around curiously.

_There's another one?_

The only person with hair remotely close to the famous Weasley-red was Fudge's assistant, a snooty-looking boy that was frantically writing down everything Fudge said.

_Is that another Weasley? Maybe Ron's brother or cousin?_

_\---_

“Yes, we can!” said Mrs. Figg indignantly.

Fudge looked back down at her, his eyebrows raised. “Very well,” he said coolly. “What is your story?”

“I had gone out to buy cat food from the corner shop at the end of Wisteria Walk, shortly after nine on the evening of the second of August,” gabbled Mrs. Figg at once, as though she had learned what she was saying by heart, “when I heard a disturbance down the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. On approaching   
the mouth of the alleyway I saw dementors running —”

“Running?” said Madam Bones sharply. “Dementors don’t run, they glide.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” said Mrs. Figg quickly, patches of pink appearing in her withered cheeks. “Gliding along the alley toward what looked like two boys.”

“What did they look like?” said Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes so that the monocle’s edges disappeared into her flesh.

“Well, one was very large and the other one rather skinny —”

“No, no,” said Madam Bones impatiently, “the dementors . . . describe them.”

\---

_I still don't know what dementors are._

_I should ask Harry later._

_\---_

“Oh,” said Mrs. Figg, the pink flush creeping up her neck now.

“They were big. Big and wearing cloaks.”

Harry felt a horrible sinking in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Mrs. Figg said to the contrary, it sounded to him as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground, or the rotting smell of them, or that terrible, rattling noise they made as they sucked on the surrounding air...

A dumpy wizard with a large black mustache in the second row leaned close to his neighbor, a frizzy-haired witch, and whispered something in her ear. She smirked and nodded. “Big and wearing cloaks,” repeated Madam Bones coolly, while Fudge snorted derisively. “I see. Anything else?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Figg. “I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer’s night, mark you. And I felt . . . as though all happiness had gone from the world . . . and I remembered . . . dreadful things. . . .”

Her voice shook and died.

Madam Bones’ eyes widened slightly. Harry could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.

“What did the dementors do?” she asked, and Harry felt a rush of hope.

“They went for the boys,” said Mrs. Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the pink flush ebbing away from her face.

“One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the dementor. That was Harry. He tried twice and produced silver vapor. On the third attempt, he produced a Patronus, which charged down the first dementor and then, with his encouragement, chased away the second from his cousin. And that . . . that was what happened,” Mrs. Figg finished, somewhat lamely.

Madam Bones looked down at Mrs. Figg in silence; Fudge was not looking at her at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively “That’s what you saw, is it?”

“That was what happened,” Mrs. Figg repeated.

“Very well,” said Fudge. “You may go.”

Mrs. Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled off toward the door again. Harry heard it thud shut behind her.

“Not a very convincing witness,” said Fudge loftily.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Madam Bones in her booming voice. “She certainly described the effects of a dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they   
weren’t —”

“But dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just _happening_ to come across a wizard?” snorted Fudge. “The odds on that must be very, very long, even Bagman wouldn’t have bet —”

“Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the dementors were there by coincidence,” said Dumbledore lightly.

The witch sitting to the right of Fudge with her face in shadow moved slightly, but everyone else was quite still and silent.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Fudge icily. “It means that I think they were ordered there,” said Dumbledore.

“I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!” barked Fudge.

“Not if the dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius.”

“Yes, you have,” said Fudge forcefully, “and I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we   
ask them to.”

\---

_Azkaban. Sirius...what? Something happened to Sirius, and he went..to Azkaban? I forgot._

_But I've heard that word before._

_Wizard terms are confusing._

_\---_

“Then,” said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, “we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of dementors into that alleyway on the second of August.”

In the complete silence that greeted these words, the witch to the right of Fudge leaned forward so that Harry saw her for the first time. He thought she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon, and a very wide, slack mouth.

Her eyes were large, round, and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put him in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.

“The Chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister,” said Fudge.

The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took Harry aback; he had been expecting a croak.

“I’m sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore,” she said with a simper that left her big, round eyes as cold as ever. “So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!”

She gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up. A few other members of the Wizengamot laughed with her. It could not have been plainer that not one of them was really amused.

\---

_Creepy lady._

_\---_

“If it is true that the dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two dementors attacked Harry and his cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks,” said Dumbledore politely. “Of course, these particular dementors may have been outside Ministry control —”

“There are no dementors outside Ministry control!” snapped Fudge, who had turned brick red.   
Dumbledore inclined his head in a little bow. “Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization.”   
  
“It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!” snapped Fudge, now a shade of magenta of which Uncle Vernon would have been proud.   
  
“Of course it isn’t,” said Dumbledore mildly. “I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated.” He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly.

“I would remind everybody that the behavior of these dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this boy’s imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!” said Fudge. “We are here to examine Harry Potter’s offenses under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!”

\---

_What a mouthful._

_\---_

“Of course we are,” said Dumbledore, “but the presence of dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations that threaten the life of the wizard or witch himself, or witches, wizards, or Muggles present at the time of the —”

“We are familiar with clause seven, thank you very much!” snarled Fudge.

“Of course you are,” said Dumbledore courteously. “Then we are in agreement that Harry’s use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances it describes?”

“If there were dementors, which I doubt —”

“You have heard from an eyewitness,” Dumbledore interrupted. “If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object.”

“I — that — not —” blustered Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him. “It’s — I want this over with today, Dumbledore!”

“But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice,” said Dumbledore shrewdly.  
  
“Serious miscarriage, my hat!” said Fudge at the top of his voice.   
  
“Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up his flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you’ve forgotten the Hover Charm he used three years ago —”

“That wasn’t me, it was a house-elf!” said Harry angrily.  
  
“YOU SEE?” roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harry’s direction. “A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you —”

“The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School,” said Dumbledore calmly. “I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish.”

“I — not — I haven’t got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that’s not the only — he blew up his aunt, for God’s sake!” Fudge   
shouted, banging his fist on the judge’s bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.

\---

_Potter blew up his aunt?_

_Badass._

_\---_  
  
“And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions,” said Dumbledore calmly, as Fudge attempted to scrub the ink off his notes.

“And I haven’t even started on what he gets up to at school —”

“— but as the Ministry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanors at school, Harry’s behavior there is not relevant to this inquiry,” said Dumbledore, politely as ever, but now with a suggestion of coolness behind his words.

“Oho!” said Fudge. “Not our business what he does at school, eh? You think so?”

“The Ministry does not have the power to expel Hogwarts students, Cornelius, as I reminded you on the night of the second of   
August,” said Dumbledore. “Nor does it have the right to confiscate wands until charges have been successfully proven, again, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August. In your admirable haste to ensure that the law is upheld, you appear, inadvertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself.”

“Laws can be changed,” said Fudge savagely.

\---

_You're going to regret that, Minister._

_\---_

“Of course they can,” said Dumbledore, inclining his head. “And you certainly seem to be making many changes, Cornelius. Why, in the few short weeks since I was asked to leave the Wizengamot, it has already become the practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic!”

A few of the wizards above them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Fudge turned a slightly deeper shade of puce. The toadlike   
witch on his right, however, merely gazed at Dumbledore, her face quite expressionless.

“As far as I am aware, however,” Dumbledore continued, “there is no law yet in place that says this court’s job is to punish Harry for every bit of magic he has ever performed. He has been charged with a specific offense and he has presented his defense. All he and I can do now is to await your verdict.”

Dumbledore put his fingertips together again and said no more. Fudge glared at him, evidently incensed. Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, seeking reassurance; he was not at all sure that Dumbledore was right in telling the Wizengamot, in effect, that it was about time they made a decision.

Again, however, Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harry’s attempt to catch his eye. He continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations.

Harry looked at his feet. His heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under his ribs. He had expected the hearing to last longer than this. He was not at all sure that he had made a good impression. He had not really said very much. He ought to have explained more fully about the dementors, about how he had fallen over, about how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed. . . .   
  
Twice he looked up at Fudge and opened his mouth to speak, but his swollen heart was now constricting his air passages and both times he merely took a deep breath and looked back at his shoes.

 _I'm going to talk, I'm going to tell Fudge how horrible it felt, the dementors-_ A hand grasped Harry's arm. Edward had reached over, tapping Harry lightly to get his attention. Ed held a finger to his mouth. Harry understood.

_Shush. The Ministry's conferring._

Then the whispering stopped. Harry wanted to look up at the judges, but found that it was really much, much easier to keep examining his laces.

“Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?” said Madam Bones’s booming voice.

Harry’s head jerked upward. There were hands in the air, many of them . . . more than half! Breathing very fast, he tried to count, but before he could finish Madam Bones had said, “And those in favor of conviction?"

Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the witch on his right and the heavily mustached wizard and the frizzy-haired witch in the second row. Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand.

He took two deep breaths and then said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, “Very well, very well . . . cleared of all charges.”

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand, and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish, while the one Edward was sitting in remained.

“Well, I must be getting along. Good day to you-"

"Wait a moment!" Fudge's voice, was shaky, almost mad with a man who had been given a morsel of his satisfation.

Dumbledore turned around. "Is there another matter, Cornelius? I really _am_ busy."

"Busy you may be, you have to answer to this!" Fudge unceremoniously handed Dumbledore Ed's passport.

"There, in the lower right corner." He leaned closer. "Now, I had my suspicions about opening a new class, _Alchemy_ , from Amestris, a country we haven't had in contact for almost a centry, but not only are you seemingly yanking new professors from thin air each year, you hire _underage_ professors?!"

Edward bristled, leaping to his feet. "What do you mean, you-"

Dumbledore's voice sliced through the air, cool as ice. "I'll handle this, Professor Elric."

The entire room seemed like it was about to burst with mutterings popping up, people were looking at Edward, then to Dumbledore, then to Harry, who looked like he wanted to shrink into the chair.

Edward sat back down into the chair.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I said before, the Ministry does _not_ have the right to punish Hogwarts students for their endeavors at school. I would like to think this applies to my professors."

Fudge and Dumbledore stared at each other, two gazes with two different views. Suddenly, as if all impulse had dissipated from him, Fudge let out a frustration-stained sound of anger and stalked from the room, along with the toady-looking witch. The action was not unlike an insolent child sent to their room.

Dumbledore held the passport out to Edward. "I will see you on the first of September, Professor Elric." Edward nodded , acception his passport and paperwork, putting it away in his jacket. "Have a good day, sir."

And Dumbledore was gone, without so much as a backward glanced at Harry.

\---

Harry seemed glued to his seat. No one else paid attention to him, other than Edward, but his mouth was forming something that Harry wasn't paying attention to.

Could he just go?

No one was paying attention to him anyways.

Edward's hand clapped onto his shoulder. "Come on, Harry. Arthur's waiting."

_Harry looks paler than a ghost._

"Y-yeah, sure."

He stood up, not sure if his legs were going to buckle or not.

Harry took the last few steps at a run, wrenched open the door, and almost collided with Mr. Weasley, who was standing right outside, looking pale and apprehensive.

“Dumbledore didn’t say —”

“Cleared,” Harry said, pulling the door closed behind him, “of all charges!”

Beaming, Mr. Weasley seized Harry by the shoulders. “Harry, that’s wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn’t have found   
you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can’t pretend I wasn’t —”

But Mr. Weasley broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out.

“Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley wonderingly, pulling Harry aside to let them all pass, “you were tried by the full court?”

“I think so,” said Harry quietly.

One or two of the passing wizards nodded to Harry as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, “Morning, Arthur,” to Mr. Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Last to leave was the red-haired Minister assisstant, presumably Mrs. Weasley's son. Edward watched closely as he walked past Harry and Mr. Weasley. But other than the tightening of Mr. Weasley's mouth, there was no other reaction.  
  
“I’m going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news,” he said, beckoning Harry forward as Percy’s heels disappeared up the stairs to the ninth level. "I’ll drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on. . . .”   
“So what will you have to do about the toilet?” Harry asked, grinning. Everything suddenly seemed five times funnier than usual.

It was starting to sink in: He was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.

“Oh, it’s a simple enough anti-jinx,” said Mr. Weasley as they mounted the stairs, “but it’s not so much having to repair the damage, it’s more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle-baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it’s an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one —”

Mr. Weasley broke off in mid-sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor, and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair, paler than Edward's and a pointed, pale face.

The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He too broke off in mid-conversation, his cold gray eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry’s face.

“Well, well, well . . . Patronus Potter,” said Lucius Malfoy coolly. Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something   
heavy. He had last seen those cool gray eyes through slits in a Death Eater’s hood, and last heard that man’s voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him.

He could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

“The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,” drawled Mr. Malfoy. “Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. . . . _Snakelike_ , in fact . . .”

Mr. Weasley gripped Harry’s shoulder in warning.

“Yeah,” said Harry, “yeah, I’m good at escaping. . . .” Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley’s face.

“And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?”

“I work here,” said Mr. Weasley shortly.

“Not here, surely?” said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing toward the door over Mr. Weasley’s shoulder. “I thought you were up on the second floor. . . . Don’t you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artifacts home and bewitching them?”

“No,” said Mr. Weasley curtly, his fingers now biting into Harry’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Harry asked Lucius Malfoy. “I don’t think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter, nor foreigners” said Malfoy, eyeing Edward with great dislike. Ed returned the glare tenfold, while Mr. Malfoy looked away.

Lucius smoothed the front of his robes; Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. “Really, just because you are Dumbledore’s favorite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us. . . . Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?”

“Certainly,” said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley. “This way, Lucius.”

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry’s shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.

“Why wasn’t he waiting outside Fudge’s office if they’ve got business to do together?” Harry burst out furiously. “What was he doing down here?”

“Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated as he glanced over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. “Trying to find out whether you’d been expelled or not. I’ll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy’s been talking to Fudge again.”   
  
“What private business have they got together anyway?”   
  
“Gold, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley angrily. “Malfoy’s been giving generously to all sorts of things for years. . . . Gets him in with the right people . . . then he can ask favors . . . delay laws he doesn’t want passed . . . Oh, he’s very well connected, Lucius Malfoy. . . .”

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley’s head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut; he waved them away irritably. “Mr. Weasley,” said Harry slowly, “if Fudge is meeting Death   
Eaters like Malfoy, if he’s seeing them alone, how do we know they haven’t put the Imperius Curse on him?”

"What are Death Eaters?" Harry glanced at Edward. "Remember we talked about Voldemort?" Ed nodded. "Death Eaters are his followers."

Edward thought, _So the higher ups are corrupted, all over the world. I'm not surprised._

“Don’t think it hadn’t occurred to us, Harry,” muttered Mr. Weasley. “But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord   
at the moment — which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort. . . . Best not talk about it anymore just now, Harry. . . .”

The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almostdeserted Atrium. Eric the security man was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.

“Wait. . . .” he told Mr. Weasley, and pulling his money bag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.

He looked up into the handsome wizard’s face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring this soppily at humans of any description.

Only the house-elf’s attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his money bag upside down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues’ feet, ignoring Ed's shout of surpise.   
  
  
  



	5. Edward's Greatest Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, everyone!
> 
> Now, this chapter is rather lengthy (my apologies) but I think this gives everyone a good insight on Edward, so please read!

"I knew it!" yelled Ron, punching the air. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes, "there was no case against you, none at all."

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off," said Harry, smiling. Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: " _He got off, he got off, he got off_..." While Edward was stuffing his face again, changing back into his usual garb.

"That's enough! Settle down!" shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry -"

"What?" said Sirius sharply.

"He got off, he got off, he got off..."

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," said Sirius. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner -"

" _He got off, he got off, he got off_..."

"That's enough - Fred - George - Ginny!" said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen.

The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.

"Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes on to everyone's plates.

"Yeah, he swung it for me," said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, "I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me."

Ron said happily, "I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know."

"I don't think he'll be able to, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. "He's really very busy at the moment."

"HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF"

"SHUT UP!" roared Mrs. Weasley.

Over the next few days Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them.

Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

"Don't you go feeling guilty!" said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her and Ron while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

"That's a bit harsh, Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he attempted to prize off a bit of mould that had attached itself firmly to his finger, "you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without any company."

"He'll have company!" said Hermione. "It's Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true" said Harry, wringing out his cloth. "He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more," said Hermione wisely. "And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together."

"Come off it!" said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.

Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them, Edward behind her.

"Still not finished?" she said, poking her head into the cupboard.

\---

There was a knock at Ed's door. 

Edward glanced at the book, one of many that he'd brought from Amestris to Hogwarts. He placed a bookmark in it and went to the door. 

Harry stood, with two letters in his hand. "Hedwig came back earlier than we thought" he said, handing Ed the letters. 

"Thanks."

After Ed's door shut he opened the letters. One was from Mustang, obviously, just reminding him on his work. Edward crumpled it up and threw it away. 

The next letter, he handled with more care. On the outside it read _to Brother._

He opened it and read;

_Dear Brother,_

_What a fright the owl gave us! I was in the Colonel's office when the owl flew in, through the window. I think the Colonel had half a mind to burn it to ashes._

_Wizards send letters by owl? You should get your own, brother. This snowy owl was quite plucky about letting me pet her._

_Things are resuming as usual here in Amestris. The Colonel and I are still in Central, but I've been spending more time in the library._

_Please do tell me how teaching goes! I'll ask Mustang if I can accompany you._

_Love,_

_Alphonse_

Edward smiled, touched Al's name on the letter. 

_I swear I won't let this opportunity go to waste. I'll find a way to get you your body back._

He tucked it into his pocket. 

_Teaching, huh?_

_That's going to be a chore._

\---

Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed, though Harry was careful not to say any of this within earshot of Sirius.

Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal) and nobody, not even Sirius, seemed to feel that Harry needed to know anything more than he had heard on the night of his arrival. 

On the very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwig's owl droppings from the top   
of the wardrobe when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes. 

"Booklists have arrived," he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing   
on a chair. "About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this..."   
Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Ron's head into   
the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. 

He then opened his letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year. 

"Only two new ones," he said, reading the list, " _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by_  
 _Miranda Goshawk, and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard."_

 _Crack_. 

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that   
he didn't even fall off his chair. 

"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," said Fred conversationally. 

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said   
George.

"And about time too," said Fred. 

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, jumping down beside them.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told   
Harry, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year." 

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?" said George.

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said   
Harry, counting them off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean." 

Fred interjected. "But remember Alchemy?" He waved the letter. "There aren't any books we need to buy, so how d'you reckon Ed's going to teach us?"

"Oh, I dunno about that-"

"What's up with you, Ron?" asked George. 

Ron did not answer. Harry looked round. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly   
open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts. 

"What's the matter?" said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the   
parchment.

Fred's mouth fell open, too. As wide as Ron's.

"Prefect?" he said, staring incredulously at the letter. "Prefect?"

\---

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

"Did you - did you get -?"

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek.

"I knew it!' she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It - what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said.

"Ron?" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But... are you sure? I mean -"

She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his face.

"It's my name on the letter," he said.

"I..." said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really -"

"Unexpected," said George, nodding.

"No," said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "no it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."

The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing... what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," said George, smirking.

"Match his what?" said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

"His badge," said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."

Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation with pajamas. "His... but... Ron, you're not...?"

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh, Ronnie —"

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

"Mum... don't... Mum, get a grip..." he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?" said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

"You've got to have a reward for this!" said Mrs. Weasley fondly. "How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers"

"Mum," said Ron hopefully, "can I have a new broom?"  
Mrs. Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.  
"Not a really good one!" Ron hastened to add. "Just - just a new one for a change..." Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then smiled.

"Of course you can... well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later... little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks... a prefect... oh, I'm all of a dither!"

She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room. Fred and George exchanged looks.

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.

"We could curtsey, if you like," said George.

"Oh, shut up," said Ron, scowling at them.

"We're going to have to watch our step, George," said Fred, pretending to tremble, "with these two on our case..."

"Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over," said George, shaking his head. And with another loud crack, the twins Disapparated.

"Those two!" said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. "Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!"

"I don't think they are," said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. "They've always said only prats become prefects... still," he added on a happier note, "they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose... she'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great... yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows."

He dashed from the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

For some reason, Harry found he did not want to look at Hermione. He turned to his bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Mrs. Weasley had laid on it and crossed the room to his trunk.

"Harry?" said Hermione tentatively.

"Well done, Hermione," said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and, still not looking at her, "brilliant. Prefect. Great."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Erm - Harry - could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased - I mean prefect is something they can understand."

"Yeah, no problem," said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. "Take her!"

He straightened up and looked behind him. Hermione had left and Hedwig had gone. Harry hurried across the room, closed the door, then returned slowly to his bed and sank on to it, gazing unseeingly at the foot of the wardrobe.

He had forgotten completely about prefects being chosen in the fifth year. He had been too anxious about the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the fact that badges must be winging their way towards certain people. But if he had remembered... if he had thought about it... what would he have expected?

 _Not this_ , said a small and truthful voice inside his head.

Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?

 _No_ , said the small voice defiantly.

Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings.

 _I'm better at Quidditch_ , said the voice. _But I'm not better at anything else._

That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion?

 _Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time,_ said the voice in Harry's head.  
 _Not all the time, though_ , Harry argued with himself. _They didn't fight Quirrell with me. They didn't take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn't get rid of all those Dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren't in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned..._

And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!

 _But maybe_ , said the small voice fairly, _maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations... maybe he chooses them for other reasons... Ron must have something you don't..._

Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Fred had said: "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect..."

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?

At this point Harry heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs again. He stood up, straightened his glasses, and hitched a grin on to his face as Ron bounded back through the door.

"Just caught her!" he said happily. "She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can." 

"Cool," Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. "Listen - Ron - well done, mate."

The smile faded off Ron's face.

"I never thought it would be me!" he said, shaking his head. "I thought it would be you!" 

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," Harry said, echoing Fred.

"Yeah," said Ron, "yeah, I suppose... well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?"

It was odd how widely their possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since they had arrived. It took them most of the afternoon to retrieve their books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside their school trunks. 

Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefects badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and lying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. 

Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk. Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o'clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.

"Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want you all downstairs," she said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face.

The door knocked and opened, revealing Edward. "Your mother wants you to come down-" his eyes widened at the broomstick. "-you wizards actually _ride_ on brooms?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we do. Some of us play quidditch, a sport with brooms."

Edward rolled his eyes. "You're all crazy. Anyway, dinner's ready,"

Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read:

CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE NEW PREFECTS

She looked in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

"I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled," she added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a Butterbeer.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his traveling cloak. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages - could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly..."

Moody's electric-blue eye swiveled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen. Edward gaped, watching the blue eye, completely different from the black one beside it.

"Drawing room..." he growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it... yeah, it's a Boggart... want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"

"No, no, I'll do it myself later," beamed Mrs. Weasley, "you have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually..." She gesture d at the scarlet banner. "Fourth prefect in the family!" she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swiveling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away towards Sirius and Lupin.

"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..." 

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's traveling cloak.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!"

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them, and then applauded.

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved towards the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato red and waist-length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato. "Like the ability to behave myself," said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back. Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh.

"No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

Harry's mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either. All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling doubly fond of everyone in the room.

Ron was rhapsodizing about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

"... nought to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two Ninety's only nought to sixty and that's with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?"

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights.

"I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures..."

Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

"... getting really out of hand, and you're so good-looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?"

"Oh - I dunno -" said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.

\---

"Cheers, Harry!" said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. "We'd better get these upstairs..."

Harry watched them go, feeling slightly uneasy. It had just occurred to him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would want to know how Fred and George were financing their joke shop business when, as was inevitable, they finally found out about it. Giving the twins his Triwizard winnings had seemed a simple thing to do at the time, but what if it led to another family row and a Percylike estrangement? Would Mrs. Weasley still feel that Harry was as good as her son if she found out he had made it possible for Fred and George to start a career she thought quite unsuitable?

Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit of his stomach for company, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.

"... why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?" said Kingsley.

"He'll have had his reasons," replied Lupin.

"But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done," persisted Kingsley, "specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days..."

Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard. Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.

\---

After talking with Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt found Edward standing off to the side, drinking water.

"You the new Alchemy professor?"

It was hard, to not be intimidated by Kingsley, but Edward managed. He held out a white-gloved hand. "Elric, sir. Edward Elric. Shacklebolt, right?" He remembered Kingsley from their brief meeting during Harry's hearing.

"Aye, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It's good to meet you."

The two stood in silence, until Kingsley asked, "You an alchemist?"

"Yes, State Alchemist."

Kingsley grabbed a glass, taking a drink. "Only heard of Amestris a few times my entire life, rather far away from London. How is it?"

He thought of what was currently happening. The Sins and Father, plotting to take over the world. The Fuhrer, watching everyone's move.

"It's fine" he managed.

"Who's your president?"

" _Fuhrer_ Bradley. I don't think you've heard of him."

"I haven't. So, you alchemists, you can turn lead into gold?"

"Yes, but we aren't-"

Mad-Eye Moody butted in. "It's not a good idea to bombard someone with questions all at once, Shacklebolt. I thought you knew that. He could be lying." He shot a look at Ed who returned it.

"Mad-Eye Moody?"

Moody tilted his head, both eyes fixed on Edward. " _Alastor_ Moody, if you please."

\---

Edward had finally managed to escape Shacklebolt and Moody. He walked to the drawing room, making sure to make his steps light and taking extra care on his automail leg.

_That Moody._

_Weird._

_Bet my atuomail is cooler than his wooden stump._

_I wonder, do they have automail here in London?_

But as he turned the corner, he heard sobbing. 

Curious, he opened the drawing room door. 

It was Mrs. Weasley, her whole body was shaking with sobs. She waved her wand, at a still figure lying across from her. 

" _R-riddikulus!_ " she said, still sobbing. It was then that Edward made out the features of the figure, red hair, freckled face but not quite as mature as the twins, Ron lay, very so dead on the ground. 

_No, Ron's not dead, he's downstairs-_

"Riddikulus!" Ron's still body disappeared, to reappear Harry's, dead, dead, dead. 

_No, Harry's downstairs too!_

Edward walked in hurriedly, tapping Mrs. Weasley. 

"Mrs. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley?" And as he tried to get her attention, away from whatever that horrible thing was, the dead 'Harry' changed, to be replaced with-

_No._

_No._

He backed up, until he was against the wall. 

It was a transmutation circle, with runes and symbols he knew all too well. It ringed the entire room, drawn in chalk, by a child's hand...

He clutched his mouth, feeling ill. 

_No._

There was a mass of _organs,_ limbs, hair, a hand reached out, a _mouth_ , the mouth opened to say something and Edward thought he was going to pass out-

No, but another figure appeared, a suit of armour. It's body had almost been ripped away, and all that remained was a helmet-

' _Brother, why didn't you save me?'_

Alphonse's voice was sad, and more gravelly than Ed had ever heard, echoing hauntingly around the room. 

Then there was Nina, only it wasn't Nina but it was her and Alexander and oh it was horrible-

_'Edward! You could've saved me!'_

_Save me._

_Save me._

Edward clutched his head, feeling it might explode. "I'm sorry" he whispered, over and over again. He screamed, not knowing what to do. The blood pooled closer, the Nina-but-not-quite Nina loomed closer-

_I can't save anyone._

\---

"Original Order of the Phoenix," growled Moody. He was holding a small photograph. 

After Edward had slunk away Mad-Eye had found Harry, leaning agains the wall. 

"Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... thought people might like to see it."

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.

"There's me," said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... that's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom -"

Harry's stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom; he knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.

"— poor devils," growled Moody. "Better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there," he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

"That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along..."

The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.

"That's Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke... that's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you!"

Harry's heart turned over. His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man whom Harry recognized at once as Wormtail, the one who had betrayed his parents' whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped to bring about their deaths.

"Eh?" said Moody.

Harry looked up into Moody's heavily scarred and pitted face. Evidently Moody was under the impression he had just given Harry a bit of a treat.

"Yeah," said Harry, once again attempting to grin. "Er... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my..."

He was spared the trouble of inventing an object he had not packed. Sirius had just said, "What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" and Moody had turned towards him. Harry crossed the kitchen, slipped through the door and up the stairs before anyone could call him back.

He did not know why it had been such a shock; he had seen pictures of his parents before, after all, and he had met Wormtail but to have them sprung on him like that, when he was least expecting it... no one would like that, he thought angrily...

And then, to see them surrounded by all those other happy faces... Benjy Fenwick, who had been found in bits, and Gideon Prewett, who had died like a hero, and the Longbottoms, who had been tortured into madness... all waving happily out of the photograph forever more, not knowing that they were doomed... well, Moody might find that interesting... he, Harry, found it disturbing...

Harry tiptoed up the stairs in the hall past the stuffed elf-heads, glad to be on his own again, but as he approached the first landing he heard noises. Someone was whispering in the drawing room.

"Hello?" Harry said.

There was no answer but the whispering continued. He climbed the remaining stairs two at a time, walked across the landing and opened the drawing-room door.

Edward was against the wall, eyes wide and whispering something Harry couldn't make out, but there was something in the middle of the drawing room, there was blood everywhere, there was a bashed suit of armour, there was a little girl and a dog-but then everything changed, the blood was still there-

It was terrifying, there was a massive _lump_ , it was like a monster with a human face, no, now that he thought of it, it looked like a woman's-

Her hand reached out-

It changed again, to an actual monster now, with thousands of faces in it, some were crying, some were screaming-

_Boggart._

_In the drawing room._

"Edward, just get out of here!" shouted Harry, staring at a mass blood and organs, a hand within it-

"What's going on?"

Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them.

Lupin eyes grew wide, as he saw the blood and the monster-like creatures hovering near Edward, paler than a ghost. But as the images changed and changed, he seemed to understand it was a boggart. 

"Riddikulus!"

The blood and monsters and boy and girl and dog all vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Oh - oh - oh!" gulped Mrs. Weasley. None of them had noticed her before, she had been hunched down. 

"Molly," said Sirius bleakly, walking over to her. "Molly...Edward..."

Edward had not moved from his place at the wall, his eyes wide as saucers. He didn't look like he was breathing. 

_Thud._

He fell to the ground, breathing deeply to account for seconds ago. He clenched his hands, feeling the metal against metal in his right hand, the skin on his left-

_No._

_No._

_I'm not at the gates, am I?_

_No._

A hand gently patted his shoulder. It was Remus. Edward shrinked away from the touch, scrambling back. 

"No, No!" He was shaking, seeming not to see what was in front of him. "Stop...don't! I tried to save you, okay? I tried!" His voice was weak. "I failed, I failed...."

Remus said firmly, "Edward, it's me. Remus Lupin."

Some of the light seemed to return. "You're the...werewolf."

"Yes, I am."

He glanced over Remus' shoulder, to Harry and Sirius and Moody. "You're...Potter." He managed. Harry nodded, feeling a dark sense wash over him. He had only seen Edward's greatest fears for a short while, but how long had Edward been there? 

_There were arms and legs, blood and a heart-_

_There was this horrible dog-looking thing-_

"You're Sirius...Potter's godfather."

Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, obviously trying to steer him away. "Aye, Elric."

"Alastor."

Mad-Eye moved closer. "You got that right." He held out a hand to Edward. "I know how you feel, lad. The flashbacks don't get prettier." He shot a look of disgust at where the boggart had been. "Blasted creatures. They show a person's worst fear."

Edward seemed to regain some of his senses. "They..show your worst fears?"

"That's what I said."

He forced himself up, leaning against the wall. Mrs. Weasley came closer to him, tears streaked onto her face. 

"I'm sorry," she half-sobbed. "I was going to take care of the boggart, but I kept seeing them d-dead, I couldn't do it..."

Remus soothingly rubbed her back. "Don't worry, Molly, Boggarts can get the best of us..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Edward!"

Ed had stalked off, clutching the wall. "It's not your fault, Mrs. Weasley. Please don't cry."

_I couldn't save Mom._

_I couldn't save Al._

_I couldn't save Nina._

His hand clenched around the State Alchemist silver pocket watch. 

_Useless._

"Ed...." he glanced over his shoulder, at Harry. "Yes, Harry?" He managed. 

"I just want you to know, Edward..." Sirius swallowed. "You're not in this alone. We've got your back."

Edward had to suppress tears. All his life, he had acted bigger than he was, _smarter_ than he was, _better_ than he actually was. No adults reigned over his life, until now. 

"Thank you very much" Edward choked out, before almost dashing upstairs like a child. 

It was in his room, that he let a single trail of tears slide down his cheeks before wiping them away angrily. 

_You have so much more to do._

_You have to save Al._

_No time for crying._

\---

"What was it, Alastor?"Kingsley asked Moody. 

Mad-Eye took another drink of his flask before saying, "The Elric boy saw a boggart. He wasn't too pleased."

"I think that's an understatement." Remus shuddered. "Alastor, you were at the back. You didn't see..." he rubbed his face. "Blood, limbs, monsters...I don't want to know what Amestris life is like."

Moody kept quiet. He was thinking about something else, something that wasn't his buisiness to share.

\---

" _Alastor_ Moody, if you please."

The first thing Moody had noticed when he introduced himself to Elric.

_Metal arm._

_Metal leg._

He saw it clear as day, through his blue eye.

Lack of one limb was not extremely unusual. He himself had lost a leg. One of his colleagues had lost one arm.

_But that was in war._

_I thought he was just a prodigy._

_But he's a soldier?_

Moody did not contribute much to the conversation between Kingsley and Edward much, but rather stared at Edward, seeing if there was anything else decidely odd.

His arm and leg were not the peg that Moody used, but looked to have wires and sheets of metal over where each limb should have been.

Moody glanced at Ed's face. A little flustered, talking to Kingsley. No dead look in his eyes, like the Longbottoms. 

He had seen worse things, and Edward had survived. 

_Boy's strong._

\---

In the kitchen, Molly was with her husband and Sirius. 

"Molly, are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley looked up to see her husband's face, filled with concern. He handed her a hot mug. Mrs. Weasley accepted, murmuring, "thank you, Arthur..." she took a sip. "Yes, I'm fine, Arthur. But Edward..."

She looked at her husband. "When I was handling the boggart, I saw...you, the boys, Ginny, Harry, dead."

Arthur stiffened, but then he rubbed her hand with his own. "We're alive and well, Molly, please don't worry."

"That's the thing! Edward saw me, and he was trying to help me..." she swiped at a stray tear. "Then the boggart changed, it was terrifying, it had turned into screams and whispers and monsters..."

Sirius came to sit at the same table as Molly. "Remember Ed had said he served in a war?"

Arthur was aghast. "A war?"

"Yes" confirmed Sirius. "Ishvalan or something, a few years ago, I think." He stared at his hands, which were shaking unusually. "Even though we didn't do much in the last War, I still remember, _terrible_ things..."

"Sirius, you did more than any of us!" Implored Mrs. Weasley. But Sirius shook his head. "Nah, I didn't. Ed said he was a Major. He would have been on the front lines..."

But they were all worrying about the wrong thing. Edward had not endured the flashbacks of war, but the screams of his mother, which could be counted worse, all the way. 

\---

"I have something to tell you." Harry said to Ron and Hermione in a low voice. They nodded, following Harry upstairs. 

"So what did you want to tell us, Harry?" Hermione asked. 

Harry lowered his voice. "Remember when Mrs. Weasley said she was going to take care of the boggart?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, before she could get rid of it, Ed walked in."

Hermione and Ron gasped. "So?" Said Ron. "What's his greatest fear?"

Harry hissed. "Lower your voice! His room is across from ours."

"Continue!"

"It was _scary_."

"Well duh, it's his worst fear!" 

"Ron, be nice!" Hermione snapped. "So what was it?"

"It changed. But when I walked in, there was like a monster, with a billion different faces in it."

"That all?"

"No, then it changed into this monster thing. It looked like a girl and a dog together. It was-" he thought of the terrifying feeling he'd gotten. 

"-It wasn't right. Then, it was this chalk-circle, in the centre it was like a mass of limbs and blood, and Edward was staring at it like he was going to pass out."

"Oh" Hermione said in a small voice, "remember when he said he was in the military?"

"You think it's something he saw in a war?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Oh, I hope we never see that!"

Without warning, the scar on his forehead seared with pain again and his stomach churned horribly.

He clapped a hand to his scar. 

"Harry is your scar hurting?"

"Eh, it's okay."

He felt older than he had ever felt in his life and it seemed extraordinary to him that barely an hour ago he had been worried about a joke shop and who had got a prefects badge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? My favourite part was probably when Ed and Mad-Eye was meeting, I just really like the 'veterans' vibe the two have. 
> 
> I've been thinking about my update schedule, is once a week okay? I'm thinking maybe every Sunday, please tell me your thoughts!


	6. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm here again, everybody...
> 
> So this chapter does not have a lot of action, but I like to think that it sort of embeds Ed in the wizarding world a bit more /-_-

Edward woke up early. 

Again.

He had dreamed, something he didn't usually do. His dreams had been filled with flashing scenarios, from running with Alphonse when they were children in the fields behind their house, to the less desirable; seeing his father, fighting Envy. 

Edward threw on his signature black jacket and red cloak, pulling on his gloves. But he did not do downstairs. Indeed, Edward simply sat at the foot of his bed. His bags had been packed, they were sitting together in front of the door. 

_Last night..._

He swallowed, clenching his hands together. 

_They aren't here._

_They aren't even in Amestris._

_Mom's dead._

_So is Nina._

_Alphonse....he doesn't blame me, does he?_

He let out a bedraggled breath. 

_He probably does._

_He said he doesn't._

Edward paced around the small room. 

And thought. 

He did not know how long he had been pacing or thinking of mundane thoughts, when the door knocked. 

"Edward?"

He forced himself to talk. "Yes? I'm awake."

He opened the door, to find Hermione on the other end. She was already dressed and looked a bit nervous. In her hands was a cat that was quite ugly with a squished face and a unporportionate stomache.

"Mrs. Weasley wants you downstairs, it's time for breakfast."

"Oh, okay." Ed tore his eyes off the cat.

He hauled his bags and followed Hermione. 

He heard shouting and screaming downstairs. "Hermione, what's that noise? Is the painting at it again?"

"Nah, it's also Mrs. Weasley. The twins bewitched their trunks to speed downstairs instead of carrying them-" her face scrunched up in disapproval. "-Irresponsible use of magic, if you ask me. They ended up hitting Ginny, she fell down two flights of stairs. Mrs. Weasley's having a go at them right now."

"...Oh." Indeed, he could hear quite clearly, what Mrs. Weasley was raging on about.

\---

Harry had a troubled night's sleep. His parents wove in and out of his dreams, never speaking; Mrs. Weasley sobbed over   
Kreacher's dead body watched by Ron and Hermione, who were wearing crowns, and yet again Harry found himself walking down a corridor ending in a locked door.

He awoke abruptly with his scar prickling to find Ron already dressed and talking to him.

". . . better hurry up, Mum's going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the train. . . ."

There was a lot of commotion in the house. ; Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.

"-COULD HAVE DONE YOU A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS-"

"-FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-"

Hermione came hurrying into the room looking flustered, just as Harry was putting on his trainers. Edward was behind her, a travelling bag slung over his shoulder and looking rather somber. Maybe the boggart hadn't left Ed, after all. 

Hedwig was swaying on Hermione's shoulder, and she was carrying a squirming Crookshanks in her arms.

"Mum and Dad just sent Hedwig back." The owl fluttered obligingly over and perched on top of her cage. "Are you ready yet?"

"Nearly. Is Ginny all right?" Harry asked, shoving on his glasses.

"Mrs. Weasley's patched her up," said Hermione. "But now Mad-Eye's complaining that we can't leave unless Sturgis Podmore's here, otherwise the guard will be one short.'

"Guard?" said Harry. "We have to go to King's Cross with a guard?"

" _You_ have to go to King's Cross with a guard," Hermione corrected him.

"Why?" said Harry irritably. "I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low, or are you telling me he's going to jump out from behind a dustbin to try and do me in?"

"I don't know, it's just what Mad-Eye says," said Hermione distractedly, looking at her watch,

"but if we don't leave soon we're definitely going to miss the train..."

Ed yawned into his arm. "Personally, I don't mind if we miss the train." His voice seemed a little more tired than usual but it sounded like he had not lost his snark.

Hermione glared at him.

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room. Harry seized Hedwig, stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage, and set off downstairs after Hermione and Edward, dragging his trunk.

Mrs. Black's portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again, anyway.

"Harry, you're to come with me and Tonks," shouted Mrs. Weasley - over the repeated screeches of "MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!" -

"Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage... oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A bear-like black dog had appeared at Harry's side as he was clambering over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.

"Who's that?"

Harry pointed at the massive black dog. "This? It's Sirius."

Edward swore loudly, and ignoring the look from Mrs. Weasley he scrambled back. "He's a _chimera_?!"

Harry tilted his head at Ed in confusion. "No, he isn't. Sirius is an Animagus; they're wizards and witches who can change into an animal."

Edward regarded 'Sirius' with narrowed eyes. "He can change back whenever he wishes?"

"Yeah, but since he's a wanted crimminal, I doubt he should do that."

Edward still looked unconvinced.

"Oh honestly..." said Mrs. Weasley despairingly. "Well, Sirius, on your own head be it!'

She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Blacks screeches were cut off instantly.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry said, looking round as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs. Weasley stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry. An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled grey hair and wore a purple hat   
shaped like a pork pie.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, winking. "Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?" she added, checking her watch.

"I know, I know," moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, "but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... if only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... how Muggles can stand traveling without magic."

But the great black dog gave a joyful bark and gamboled around them, snapping at pigeons and chasing its own tail. Harry couldn't help laughing. Sirius had been trapped inside for a very long time. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in an almost Aunt Petunia-ish way.

It took them twenty minutes to reach King's Cross on foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for Harry's entertainment. Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through on to platform nine and three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. Harry inhaled the familiar smell and felt his spirits soar... he was really going back...

"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, staring behind her at the wrought-iron arch spanning the platform, through which new arrivals would come.

"Nice dog, Harry!" called a tall boy with dreadlocks.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry, grinning, as Sirius wagged his tail frantically.

"Oh good," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding relieved, "here's Alastor with the luggage, look..."

A porter's cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody came limping through the archway pushing a trolley loaded with their trunks.

"All okay," he muttered to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks, "don't think we were followed..." Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged on to the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage trolley when Fred, George and Ginny turned up with Lupin.

"No trouble?" growled Moody.

"Nothing," said Lupin.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," said Moody, "that's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus."

"Well, look after yourselves," said Lupin, shaking hands all round. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder.

"You too Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody, shaking Harry's hand too. "And don't forget, all of you - careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks, hugging Hermione and Ginny "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying on to the train.

Mad-Eye tapped Edward on the shoulder. "A quick word, Elric."

"Yes?" Edward bristled, on guard.

Mad-Eye leaned closer, so Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be able to hear him, "Keep your eyes and ears open at Hogwarts. If worse comes to worse you might experience more than just a boggart."

He walked away, Tonks with him, leaving Edward mulling over what Mad-Eye had said, none too cheerfully.

"Quick, quick," said Mrs. Weasley distractedly, hugging them at random and catching Harry twice. "Write... be good... if you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... on to the train, now, hurry..."

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared on to its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away towards the train door, hissing, "For heaven's sake, act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"See you!" Harry called out of the open window as the train began to move, while Ron, Hermione and Ginny waved beside him. The figures of Lupin and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly but the black dog was bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail; blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, then they rounded a bend, and Sirius was gone.

"He shouldn't have come with us," said Hermione in a worried voice.

"Oh, lighten up," said Ron, "he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke."

"Well," said Fred, clapping his hands together, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later," and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right.

The train was gathering still more speed, so that the houses outside the window flashed past, and they swayed where they stood.

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Er," said Ron.

"We're - well - Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

Ron wasn't looking at Harry; he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on his left hand.

"Oh," said Harry. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said Hermione quickly. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine," said Harry again. "Well, I - I might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely," said Ron, casting a shifty, anxious look at Harry. "It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather - but we have to -I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy," he finished defiantly.

"I know you're not," said Harry and he grinned. But as Hermione and Ron dragged their trunks, Crookshanks and a caged Pigwidgeon off towards the engine end of the train, Harry felt an odd sense of loss. He had never traveled on the Hogwarts Express without Ron.

"Come on," Ginny told him, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places. Edward, do you need help?"

Edward settled a white-gloved hand on his suitcase. "You know what?" He glanced at the corridors. "I'm a bit winded-up at the moment. I'll take a walk around the corridors."

"Oh, um, sure."

He gave his luggage to Harry, whom almost crumpled under the weight of the books.

"Right," said Harry, picking up Hedwig's cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other. Harry suspected Edward was not over the boggart incident, however aloof he was acting.

They struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments they passed, which were already full. Harry could not help noticing that a lot of people stared back at him with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors and pointed him out.

After he had met this behavior in five consecutive carriages he remembered that the Daily Prophet had been telling its readers all summer what a lying show-off he was. He wondered dully whether the people now staring and whispering believed the stories.   
In the very last carriage they met Neville Longbottom, Harry's fellow fifth-year Gryffindor, his round face shining with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor.

"Hi, Harry" he panted. "Hi, Ginny... everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," said Ginny, laughing, "she's all right."

She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside. Harry and Neville followed.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny, "is it okay if we take these seats?"

\---

Edward hadn't been lying, when he said he wanted to walk around. He was tense all over, ready for an attack that was unlikely to come. 

_Dammit, boggart._

Ed continued walking. 

_I wonder what King Bradley's boggart is._

Edward shook his head. 

He just needed to get a feel of the students he was supposed to teach.

_Sirius' situation is exactly like one of the military's successful chimera operations._

He thought of Darius, one of Kimblee's chimera minions. _Darius could change into a gorilla._

_The ability to change from a human to animal in seconds at will._

_But Sirius and Harry are adamant that he isn't a chimera._

_Meaning a) Sirius doesn't remember the surgery, which is unlikely, or b) they're lying. Of course, there's also c) they're telling the truth, but...._

Ed was aware of the few looks he was getting.

_They probably haven't seen someone with golden eyes before._

_Now that I think of it, Al and I are the only people with golden eyes._

_Other than Hohenheim._

_Huh, I never noticed that before._

The train lurched, and Edward stumbled. He clapped a hand against the wall to steady himself.

When he looked up, a girl dressed in black robes walked past him. She wore a yellow tie with black stripeson top of a white dress shirt.

He glanced quite a few compartments back, where Harry and Ginny had been. He remembered that many people sitting there had been wearing the same robes as the girl that had just walked by him but instead of a yellow and black tie they had been wearing scarlet ties with yellow more resembling gold.

_Are these different ranks?_

_Different allegations?_

He continued walked down the corridors, occasionally glancing through the windows. As he walked closer to the Prefect's carriage that Ron and Hermione had gone to he noticed the red and yellow ties had disappeared, along with the yellow and black ones to be replaced largely by blue and silver ties.

_Yellow and black._

_Red and gold._

_Blue and silver._

_Other than the ties, everyone is wearing a white dress shirt and black robes, same thing._

He thought of last night.

_'Boggart.' A creature that turns into anyone's worst fear._

He touched his shoulder, where flesh and skin ended and automail begun.

_...Anything for Al._

_I can't lose him too._

He neared the Prefect's carriage compartment just as people were walking out, he leaned to the side. A few Prefects with the same badge as Ron and Hermion looked at him curiously but didn't say anything.

"Edward! What are you doing here?"

He saw Ron and Hermione emerging from the Prefect compartment, he dusted off his cloak. "I was walking around" said Edward. "I've never been on this 'Hogwarts Express.'"

They walked with him. "We have to patrol the corridors too" explained Hermione.

"Do your tie colours mean anything?"

She glanced down in surprise, at her scarlet and gold tie. Ron wore the same one. "Oh, the House colours, you mean."

"They're called Houses?"

"Yes. There are four Houses. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff." She counted on her fingers.

Edward frowned. "Four? But I only counted three."

"You got out of the compartment and walked right up to the Prefect's carriage, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's why you didn't see the Slytherins. They sit at the very back of the Hogwarts Express." Her voice held a note of disdain unlike her usual voice.

"You don't like them" was Edward's observation.

"Of _course_ we don't like them, bloody gits they are-"

Hermione shushed Ron. "Well, Gryffindors don't exactly get along with Slytherins" she admitted. "You see, we're Sorted into these Houses when we're eleven, first-years and we stay in the same House until we graduate. The Houses are named after Hogwarts founders. Gryffindors are for the brave at heart-" and Ron grinned, touching his own red tie.

"-Slytherins are Sorted because of their ambition and cunning, not because they're _evil_ -"

"But many of those Slytherin blokes turn out evil" snarled Ron.

"Ron! Being in Slytherin doesn't automatically mean you're evil!"

"Tch!"

"Anyways," Hermione said, looking at Edward. "-Ravenclaws are sorted because of their brains and their want for knowledge, and Hufflepuff-" she held out her hands. "Accepts the rest, but also known as the good at heart."

"So you, Ron, Harry, Ginny, the twins-you're all-" he made quotation marks in the air. "- _brave at heart_?"

Hermione and Ron stood straighter, grinning. "Something like that."

Patrolling the corridors was rather boring but being with Ron and Hermione made it less so. Soon enough, they had rounded the entire Hogwarts Express, ending up at their compartment again.

Harry had gotten the Stinksap off of him, just as Ron, Hermione and Edward all entered the compartment.

In Harry's eyes, Edward looked slightly less pale, though it could have been a trick of the light. However, Harry was just relieved Ed seemed to put the boggart's incident behind him. 

Inside, there were pastries strewn around, most that Edward had never seen before. 

"I'm starving," said Ron, stowing Pigwidgeon next to Hedwig, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from Harry and throwing himself into the seat next to him. He ripped open the wrapper, bit off the frog's head and leaned back with his eyes closed as though he had had a very exhausting morning. He tossed a box of _Bertie Bott's every flavour beans_ at Edward. "Help yourself, mate."

"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each house," said Hermione, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she took her seat. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron, still with his eyes closed.

"Malfoy," replied Harry at once, certain his worst fear would be confirmed.

"Course," said Ron bitterly, stuffing the rest of the Frog into his mouth and taking another.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione viciously. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron thickly, through a mouth of chocolate.

"So there's two prefects for each House?"

"No, there's six active Prefects in each House." Noticing Edward's confused look Harry added, "Once you're a Prefect in your fifth year, you're a Prefect until you graduate."

"That sounds tough."

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," finished Hermione.

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," said a vague voice.

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. He swallowed his mouthful of Frog.

"Yeah, I know I did," he said, looking mildly surprised.

"She didn't enjoy it very much," Luna informed him. "She doesn't think you treated her very well, because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I'd have minded," she added thoughtfully, "I don't like dancing very much."

She retreated behind The Quibbler again. Ron stared at the cover with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, then looked around at Ginny for some kind of explanation, but Ginny had stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself giggling. Ron shook his head, bemused, then checked his watch.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," he told Harry and Neville, "but we just did that, so we don't have to worry. We can also give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" said Hermione sharply. "Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," said Ron sarcastically.

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine." 

"For heaven's sake, Ron -"

"Why are you so fixated on-" Edward waved his hand. "This 'Malfoy?' I hope he's not related to the one I met at the Ministry."

"About that, Ed," Harry said grimly. "The one you met was Lucius Malfoy, the father of Draco Malfoy. He's an exact carbon copy of his father, Ed, down to the stupid laugh."

"Sorry," Neville butted in, "but who are you?" His wide brown eyes met Ed's gold ones. He glanced at Harry.

"Yeah, you can tell Neville" confirmed Harry. "Everyone else is going to find out sooner or later."

"Okay, sure." Edward tugged at his cloak. "Edward Elric, Alchemy Professor."

The second part didn't register to Neville until a few seconds later, after they shook hands. "Wait a moment- _professor_?"

"You said it."

Neville goggled at Ed, while Luna remained firmly concentrated on her magazine. "Y-you, a professor! But you're so _young!_ And _short_!"

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione cringed, waiting for Edward's angry outburst. But instead, they heard Edward say, in a voice that sounded just a bit too controlled, "I'm not _short_ , Neville, and yes, I am a professor. I'll be teaching you Alchemy."

To say Edward Elric was not short was a desperate lie but one that everyone played along nonetheless. 

"Alchemy...? Is that a new course?"

"Yes, it is. I was called here because your Headmaster wanted some...special precautions."

The door to the compartment opened.

"My, my, look who we hav here."

Harry looked around; he had expected this, but that did not make the sight of Draco Malfoy smirking at him from between his cronies Crabbe and Goyle any more enjoyable.

"What?" he said aggressively, before Malfoy could open his mouth.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," drawled Malfoy, whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his fathers. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah," said Harry, "but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville laughed. Malfoy's lip curled.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?" he asked.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione sharply.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," said Malfoy, smirking. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line."His eyes flicked to Edward. "And take the foreigners with you."

"Get out!" said Hermione, standing up.

Sniggering, Malfoy gave Harry a last malicious look and departed, with Crabbe and Goyle lumbering along in his wake. Hermione slammed the compartment door behind them and turned to look at Harry, who knew at once that she, like him, had registered what Malfoy had said and been just as unnerved by it.

"Chuck us another Frog," said Ron, who had clearly noticed nothing.

"Bleh!" Edward had just tried his first Bertie bean, promptly spitting it out and wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "These are nasty!"

Ron laughed. "You probably ate a dirt or earwax-flavoured bean, Ed. The peppermint ones are right tasty."

But Edward wasn't willing to try the rest of the beans, instead he stayed with the pumpkin pastries and cauldron cakes. 

Harry could not talk freely in front of Neville and Luna. He exchanged another nervous look with Hermione, then stared out of the window.

He had thought Sirius coming with him to the station was a bit of a laugh, but suddenly it seemed reckless, if not downright dangerous... Hermione had been right... Sirius should not have come. What if Mr. Malfoy had noticed the black dog and told Draco? What if he had deduced that the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks and Moody knew where Sirius was hiding? Or had Malfoy's use of the word dogging been a coincidence?

The weather remained undecided as they traveled further and further north. Rain spattered the windows in a half-hearted way, then the sun put in a feeble appearance before clouds drifted over it once more. When darkness fell and lamps came on inside the carriages, Luna rolled up The Quibbler, put it carefully away in her bag and took to staring at everyone in the compartment instead.

Harry was sitting with his forehead pressed against the train window, trying to get a first distant glimpse of Hogwarts, but it was a moonless night and the rain-streaked window was grimy.

At last, the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready to get off. As Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise all this, they disappeared from the carriage again, leaving Harry and the others to look after Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon.

"I'll carry that owl, if you like, " said Luna to Harry, reaching out for Pigwidgeon as Neville stowed Trevor carefully in an inside pocket.

"Oh - er - thanks, " said Harry, handing her the cage and hoisting Hedwig's more securely into his arms.

They shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly, they moved towards the doors. Harry could smell the pine trees that lined the path down to the lake. He stepped down on to the platform and looked around, listening for the familiar call of "firs'-years over 'ere... firs'-years..."

But it did not come. Instead, a quite different voice, a brisk female one, was calling out, "First years line up over here, please! All first-years to me!"

A lantern came swinging towards Harry and by its light he saw the prominent chin and severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had taken over Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a while the previous year.

"Where's Hagrid?" he said out loud.

"I don't know," said Ginny, "but we'd better get out of the way, we're blocking the door." "Oh, yeah..."

"Professor Elric!" Edward whipped his head back, to where the woman was standing. She gestured to him. He glanced at Harry. "Guess that's my cue. I'll see you at the dinner!"

\---

Edward made his way over to the woman who had called his name, feeling a bit nervous. She nodded at him. "You Professor Elric? Dumbledore told me to keep an eye out for you." She hooked a thumb to where the coaches were, pulled by strange creatures. She pointed to the front, where there was a long coach in the front. 

"That one's for you. It'll get you to the castle faster. Now, move along. The Feast is staring soon." He nodded his head, tightening his hold on his suitcase as he walked briskly to the coach. 

Upon nearing the coach up front, he saw with a shiver of the unknown what the creatures pulling the coach were. 

They looked rather reptilian, like a cross between a dragon and a lizard, but added with a horse. While it had an equine shape, its black skin stretched over bone, showing off contours in the bone. Its body had a scaly look, not that Edward was going to touch it. He made sure to steer clear of its wings as he jumped in the coach, bags thumping together. 

_Are those chimeras?_

_I hope the hell they aren't._

Indeed, when the coach stopped moving and Edward looked back at the others they were still a fair distance behind. Seeing none to help him he simply set off for the castle in front of him. 

\---

Harry did not want to tell the others that he and Luna could both see the skeletal creatures, if that was what they were, so he said nothing more about the horses as he sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless, he could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.

"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna, "he isn't a very good teacher, is he?" "Yes, he is!" said Harry, Ron and Ginny angrily.

Harry glared at Hermione. She cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm... yes... he's very good."

"Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke," said Luna, unfazed.

"You've got a rubbish sense of humor then," Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.

Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television program.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrids cabin. 

Unwillingly, because he had half-hoped they would have vanished, he turned his eyes instead upon the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.

Harry had once before had the experience of seeing something that Ron could not, but that had been a reflection in a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred very solid looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages. If Luna was to be believed, the beasts had always been there but invisible. Why, then, could Harry suddenly see them, and why could Ron not?

"Are you coming or what?" said Ron beside him.

"Oh... yeah," said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

_Edward is probably already in the castle._

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of- term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindors, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"He's not there."

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," said Harry firmly.

"You don't think he's... hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily. "No," said Harry at once.

"But where is he, then?"

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.'

"Yeah... yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Hey, Ed's up there!"

They had not noticed it at first, Ed's hair blended in rather nicely with the foreground but there he sat, between Professors Flitwick and the empty space where Professor McGonagall would have sat. McGonagall was probably talking to the first-years about the Sorting at the moment. 

\---

As soon as he'd stepped inside the castle Edward had felt terribly _small._

The ceiling was huge, massive even, spanning higher than any ceiling Ed had ever seen with eerily lifelike paintings adorning the walls. 

But before he could explore further a man was in front of him, staring down. "You arrived earlier than expected."

It was Professor Snape, one of whom had visited him at the Order. Snape turned around, waving a hand for Edward to follow. 

"The Sorting is due to begin soon, you can meet the other professors while we wait."

Edward pushed open a door labelled _staffroom_ and inside there were a few people. The first one to greet him was a man shorter than Edward, to his surprise.

"It's very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Elric" he said in a squeaky voice. "Filius Flitwick, I teach Charms."

_What's Charms?_

"You've already met Professor McGonagall before haven't you?" Edward nodded. "Yeah, she and Severus visited me during the summer."

"Good, good. She's not here at the moment; she's rounding up the first-years for the Sorting."

"Sorry, but what exactly is the Sorting?" Edward felt like he needed to know.

A woman poked her head in the room. She was rounder than Professor McGonagall, with flyaway hair that had begun to grey in some parts. "Everyone, come on! It's starting soon, we must be there before the students!"

"Right you are, Pomona" Flitwick replied merrily, adding to Edward, "you'll find out what the Sorting is soon enough, Edward. Now, come along. We must find our seats."

The teachers entered a room that put the entrance to shame; the ceiling looked like it opened up to the sky. Edward pointed to it. "Is that the actual sky?"

"No, no. It's enchanted to look like that."

There were four long tables in the Great Hall, but no one was sitting down at them. Snape saw Edward glancing around, but waved his hand impatiently. "Move on, Edward, students will be arriving soon."

At the front there was a row of rather nice-looking chairs, in which the professors took seats. But the golden one in the middle, with an eagle podium in front, remained empty. It seemed the Headmaster was supposed to sit there, but where was Dumbledore? Flitwick patted the seat next to him. "You can sit beside me, Edward."

"Thanks, um, Professor Flitwick."

"Please, call me Filius!" He smiled. "We _are_ colleagues, are we not?"

Ed noticed the seat beside him, two seats away from Filius was empty. "Who sits here?"

"That's McGonagall's seat, she'll be here soon."

But when the doors opened, it was not McGonagall or the students, it was Professor Dumbledore, chatting with-

Edward leaned closer, trying to get a look.

"Oh, that's probably the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor" murmered Flitwick with a tone that was colder than his usual.

Severus snorted, Edward turning his head to look at him. Snape was sitting on the other side, two seats away from the Headmaster's chair. "I bet she won't even last the year" he said, his drawling tone dripping with disdain.

Strangley, none of the professors reprimanded him, instead they shared knowing looks.

When Dumbledore moved closer Edward finally got a clear view of who was talking with him. His stomache clenched, he scowled. Flitwick noticed, and asked, "Do you know her, Edward?"

"Yes, I do" Ed said grimly. "She works for the Ministry, fat pink toad she is."

"Hush, Edward!" At Ed's look, Flitwick whispered, "at least when she's in the same room as you. Otherwise, talk as you like."

_I like this teacher._

"Hello, professors" Dumbledore greeted as he and Umridge made their way to the seats. "I see you've already met Edward Elric, please _do_ accquaint yourselves with Umridge; the students will be arriving soon.

As soon as Umbridge had taken a seat, next to Dumbledore and Snape the latter had looked away, evidently finding her pink garb quite repelling. 

Just a few minutes later the doors to the Great Hall opened, and the students filed in. 

\---

"It's that Umbridge woman!"

"Who?" said Hermione.

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking, looking up at the seat where Umbridge sat.

"She works for Fudge!" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?" 

"Dunno..."

Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.

"No," she muttered, "no, surely not..."

Harry did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; his attention had been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's.

That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

\---

Edward regarded the tatty and worn hat with much curiosity. What was it supposed to do? Just sit there on the stool? He noticed there was a rip near the hat's brim, more evidence of its age. 

He asked Flitwick, "What's the hat supposed to do?" But Filius had only replied mysteriously, "You'll see."

And so, the Sorting begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ed still is sort of suspicious about the whole werewolf/animagus/chimera thing. Not really surprising considering what is happening in Amestris... 
> 
> Good old Professor Flitwick, eh?
> 
> I will make some effort to include Winry, Alphonse, and Mustang in this work! Also do not worry Draco fans, I'll try to include him as much, too (and not just a meanie)
> 
> Comment down below your thoughts! Thank you so very much for reading!


	7. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe it's already May, time goes by really fast...
> 
> I plan to update around once a week, if anyone's wondering :)
> 
> I hope everyone has stayed safe during this time!

The Great Hall was silent, and everyone, regardless of House and age seemed to be staring at the old hat.

And the rip near the hat's brim opened wide. The hat begun to sing.

_In times of old when I was new,_

_And Hogwarts barely started,_

_The founders of our noble school,_

Edward started, almost falling off his chair. He clutched his chest, gasping.

_The hat can talk?!_

Because everyone else was staring fixedly on the Hat it was only Flitwick who noticed, straightening him up. "Sorry, lad, I forgot Amestris doesn't have much in the way of magic" he chuckled. "Just watch and listen."

_Thought never to be parted,_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school,_

_And pass along their learning._

_"Together we will build and teach!"_

_The four good friends decided,_

_And never did they dream,_

_That they might some day be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere,_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell,_

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those whose Ancestry is purest."_

_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose Intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those With brave deeds to their name."_

Edward scrutinized the Hat, with its open "mouth" and voice.

_It's obviously magic, no two ways about it._

_Unless they transmuted another soul-_

_No, that wouldn't do..._

He listened to what the Hat was saying.

_So Hermione was right about the Houses._

_Eh, I think she would have been more of a Raven-something than a Gryffindor._

_The Hat's singing about friendship failing, how weird._

_But whatever._

The Hat continued.

_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, And treat them just the same."_

_These differences caused little strife, When first they came to light,_

_For each of the four founders had_

_A house in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted,_

_So, for instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him, And only those of sharpest mind Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the houses and their founders Retained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The houses that, like pillars four, Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and, Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school Must meet an early end,_

_What with dueling and with fighting And the clash of friend on friend And at last there came a morning When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out He left us quite downhearted._   
_And never since the founders four Were whittled down to three_

_Have the houses been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into houses_

_Because that is what I'm for,_

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether Sorting May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs, The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you... Let the Sorting now begin._

Edward frowned, disliking the foreboding ton the Sorting Hat ended with. "Strange" he commented to Filius, who was also frowning. "Indeed, indeed, Edward."

\---

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors, and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised. "Too right it has," said Harry.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels –"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see- through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end.

With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name. "Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking boy Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

\---

Edward poked Professor Flitwick, whispering, "how does it know which House to sort them in?"

"The Hat looks in your mind, sees your wants, your actions, and where it would be best to put you in."

_It looks in your mind?_

_I'm glad I'm not being Sorted._

_Freaky._

\---

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Harry was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked the ghost. "About the Hat giving warnings?"

"Oh, yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" said Ron.

His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.

"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?"

"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."

"And it wants all the houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. "Fat chance."

\---

Edward stared at his plate, where it had been empty moments before was now filling with food.

"H-how-?" He asked hoarsely to Flitwick, who only laughed, tying a napkin around his neck. "Dig in, Edward!"

And so that was what he did. Edward ate, from scotch eggs to something called Yorkshire pudding and drinking pumpkin juice. Edward had never drunk pumpkin juice before; back in Resembool his mother had never juiced it but rather, she'd put it in soup.

He ate more, ignoring the conversation around him and willing to try every single dish. Later, the meat and vegetables vanished, to be replaced with eccles cakes and pies of different flavours.

While Edward was helping himself to his second eccle cake Professor McGonagall took her seat beside him. "Hello, Edward" she said primly, taking a sip out of her goblet.

"Oh, um, hello, Professor."

"How do you like Hogwarts so far?"

Edward swallowed the remains of the small cake. "The food's good."

The corners of her mouth lifted up. "That's good to hear."

"But I don't like that Umbridge lady. Flitwick said she's probably the new teacher or something."

Her mouth thinned. "Filius is probably right, unfortunately."

As Edward finished yet another treacle tart, he thought about the new year at Hogwarts.

_I hope nothing crazy pops up._

_\---_

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to lace the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft...

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had several changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

"And, as a few of you know already-" Dumbledore's voice grew more serious. "-due to _circumstances_ last year, I am opening a new class." Most of the students were surprised, leaning forward with excitement.

"I doubt many of you have heard of Alchemy, much less know what it is." Dumbledore raised his hand, to where Edward was sitting. "Let me welcome you to Professor Elric, who will be teaching you the ancient art of Alchemy."

Harry, Ron, and Hermion made sure to clap extra hard this time. It seemed to Harry that Ed had received much more applaused from the students than Grubbly-Plank or Umbridge, and most of the applause seemed to come from Hermione and the other girls. Edward raised a hand, then set it down rather quickly.

Dumbledore continued, as the applause ebbed, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the -" He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

\---

Edward glanced at Dumbledore, hoping he'd continue talking, but it seemed the old man had more tact than he thought. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk.

Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

\---

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan.

She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth.

"And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge   
amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech. Edward and Flitwick seemed to roll their eyes in unison.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new,   
between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again.

Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.   
Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

"... because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping, while Snape and Edward didn't bother. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot.'

"Did it" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly.

"How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"

\---

"Do you have a room yet?"

Edward glanced at McGonagall. "No, I just left my bags in the staffroom."

"Follow me, Edward. We'll get you a room."

After they went to the staffroom, Edward got his bags and she led him to the staircases. While walking up one, the staircase changed courses in the middle, swivelling to the right.

Edward swore loudly, dropping his bags onto the stairs and righting his balance. Many heads turned at the loud outburst. Professor McGonagall, who seemed unfazed by the staircase's sudden turn, frowned disapprovingly at him. "Language, Mr. Elric. As you probably know, the stairwells are magic. Be careful when you use them."

She rapped the first door they saw, saying "this is my office, feel free to contact me if you need so." The two continued walking, amid the curious stares of the students.

McGonagall opened a door, but the room inside wasn't unoccupied. There was a little man with translucent skin and wearing a jester's costume floating in the air, concentrating on writing words on the wall that made Ed's swears look like gentle greetings.

"Peeves! Out!" McGonagall said sternly. But instead of simply leaving, Peeves threw the chalk in the bin, rattling loudly. "Professor's no fun" he whined, zooming out of the room.

"That's Peeves, a poltergeist" McGonagall explained. "He likes playing pranks, usually won't follow orders unless from Dumbeldore and the Bloody Baron, another ghost."

_So ghosts exist._

He nodded his thanks. McGonagall pointed at a portrait outside of his door. It was a painting of a black-and-white dog playing, and as Edward stared at the painting the dog moved, lolling it's tongue.

_It sort of looks like the Rockbell's dog, Den._

_Alphonse would probably want a cat, though._

"Just tell the dog your password, and the door will only open if someone knows the password."

"Really?"

"Yes." Professor McGonagall turned around, robes swishing. "Meet me in the Great Hall tomorrow morning, Edward, we'll discuss your teaching timetable then."

"Thank you."

When she left Edward poked the dog's painting, watching it wriggle.

"So, I just say my password?" Edward asked, hoping he didn't sound too stupid. The dog's ears perked up, seeming to be at attention.

_What word should I use?_

_Hmm..The dog looks a bit like Den..._

"Okay" Edward said, snapping his fingers. "The password is _Densuke_. Did you hear that?" The dog in the painting cocked his head, seemingly agreeing.

_Weird, talking to a painting._

He set his red cloak over a chair, looking around his room. A fluffy bed, bigger and warmer than the one back at Grimmauld Place along with a bathroom and large desk filled with-

Edward couldn't contain his disbelief.

_Quills?_

He picked one up, noting the intricate cuts at the tip and the broad white-plumed feather.

_What are they living in, the Middle Ages?_

_I'm glad I brought my pens._

_Load better than quills._

Edward left most of his pens in his bag but he took out a fountain pen and set it on the desk, on top of a leaflet of paper.

_I'll write to Alphonse tomorrow._

_For now, sleep._

_\---_

Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady before he realized that he did not know the new password.

"Er..." he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.

"No password, no entrance," she said loftily.

"Harry, I know it!" Someone panted up behind him and he turned to see Neville jogging towards him. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once -" He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"

"Correct," said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open towards them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Harry and Neville now climbed.

The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cozy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the noticeboard. Harry waved goodnight to them and headed straight for the door to the boys' dormitories; he was not in much of a mood for talking at the moment. Neville followed him.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid.

"Hi," he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.

"Hey, Harry," said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pajamas in the West Ham colors. "Good holiday?"

"Not bad," muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. "You?"

"Yeah, it was okay," chuckled Dean. "Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling me."

"Why, what happened, Seamus?" Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus mimbletonia tenderly on his bedside cabinet.

Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

"What?" said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes. "She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts."

Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pajamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.

"But - why?" said Harry, astonished. He knew that Seamus's mother was a witch and could not understand, therefore, why she should have come over so Dursleyish.

Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pajamas.  
"Well," he said in a measured voice, "I suppose... because of you."  
"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly.  
His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.

"Well," said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's eye, "she... er... well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore, too..."

"She believes the Daily Prophet?" said Harry. "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"

Seamus looked up at him.

"Yeah, something like that."

Harry said nothing. He threw his wand down on to his bedside table, pulled off his robes, stuffed them angrily into his trunk and pulled on his pajamas. He was sick of it; sick of being the person who was stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea what it felt like to be the one all these things had happened to... Mrs. Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.

He got into bed and made to pull the hangings closed around him, but before he could do so, Seamus said, "Look... what did happen that night when... you know, when... with Cedric Diggory and all?"

Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening hard.

"What are you asking me for?" Harry retorted. "Just read the Daily Prophet like your mother, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know."

"Don't you have a go at my mother," Seamus snapped. "I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," said Harry. "Don't talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you how I want," said Harry, his temper rising so fast he snatched his wand back from his bedside table. "If you've got a problem sharing a dormitory with me, go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved... stop your mummy worrying -"

"Leave my mother out of this, Potter!"

"What's going on?"

Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes traveled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised.

"He's having a go at my mother!" Seamus yelled.  
"What?" said Ron. "Harry wouldn't do that — we met your mother, we liked her..."

"That's before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!" said Harry at the top of his voice.

"Oh," said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. "Oh... right."

"You know what?" said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. "He's right, I don't want to share a dormitory with him any more, he's a madman."

"That's out of order, Seamus," said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red - always a danger sign.

"Out of order, am I?" shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was tuning paler. "You believe all the rubbish he's come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Ron angrily.  
"Then you're mad, too," said Seamus in disgust.

"Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!" said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. "So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!"

Seamus looked for a few seconds as though detention would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a noise of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor. Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville.

"Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?" he said aggressively.

"My parents are Muggles, mate," said Dean, shrugging. "They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them."

"You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!" Seamus snapped at him. "Anyway your parents don't get the Daily Prophet. They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles -"

"My gran says that's rubbish," piped up Neville. "She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry" said Neville simply. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, looking owlishly over them at Seamus. "My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Neville. Nobody else said anything. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent. Neville, who appeared to have nothing more to say either, was gazing fondly at his moonlit cactus.

Harry lay back on his pillows while Ron bustled around the next bed, putting his things away. He felt shaken by the argument with Seamus, whom he had always liked very much. How many more people were going to suggest that he was lying, or unhinged?

Had Dumbledore suffered like this all summer, as first the Wizengamot, then the International Confederation of Wizards had thrown him from their ranks? Was it anger at Harry, perhaps, that had stopped Dumbledore getting in touch with him for months? The two of them were in this together, after all; Dumbledore had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought Harry was a liar had to think that Dumbledore was, too, or else that Dumbledore had been hoodwinked...

 _They'll know we're right in the end,_ thought Harry miserably, as Ron got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But he wondered how many more attacks like Seamus's he would have to endure before that time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Winry's dog, Den(suke) was inspired by Hiromu Arakawa's own dog she had when she was younger, also named Densuke! Another fact, there is a type of watermelon called the densuke watermelon that is one of the world's most expensive watermelons (costing around 250 USD and 356 CAD)
> 
> I do have a few surprises in store, considering Dumbledore's Army and all that...come back next week! Thank you very much for reading!


	8. Not teaching, per se

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again :)
> 
> So as I was writing this, I couldn’t help but think, I don’t think Ed would be such a great teacher if he was just thrusted into teaching a class, so as many professors/teachers go through, I made Ed a glorified teacher’s aide :) The idea was he would just go to a few classes other professors taught and get a grasp of their teaching methods (but only for a week, then he’s going to teach like a boss). 
> 
> I think Ed and McGonagall’s friendship is seriously underrated, don’t you think?
> 
> Anyways, read on and as always thanks for reading everyone!

Seamus dressed at top speed next morning and left the dormitory before Harry had even put on his socks.

"Does he think he'll turn into a nutter if he stays in a room with me too long?" asked Harry loudly, as the hem of Seamus's robes whipped out of sight.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Dean muttered, hoisting his schoolbag on to his shoulder, "he's just..."

But apparently he was unable to say exactly what Seamus was, and after a slightly awkward pause followed him out of the room.

Neville and Ron both gave Harry an it's-his-problem-not-yours look, but Harry was not much consoled. How much more of this would he have to take?

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione five minutes later, catching up with Harry and Ron halfway across the common room as they all headed towards breakfast. "You look absolutely - Oh for heaven's sake."

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign had been put up.

_GALLONS OF GALLEONS._

_Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold? Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs. (We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)_

"They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking d own the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. "We'll have to talk to them, Ron."

Ron looked positively alarmed. "Why?"

"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as they c l imbed out through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!"

Ron said nothing; Harry could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they liked was not one he found inviting.

"Anyway, what's up, Harry?" Hermione continued, as they walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignored them, being engrossed in their own conversation. "You look really angry about something."

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," said Ron succinctly, when Harry did not respond.

Hermione, who Harry had expected to react angrily on his behalf, sighed. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too," she said gloomily.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whet her or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry said loudly.

"No," said Hermione calmly. "I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side."

There was a short pause.

"Sorry," said Harry in a low voice.

"That's quite all right," said Hermione with dignity. Then she shook her head. "Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?"

Harry and Ron both looked at her blankly and Hermione sighed again.

"About You-Know-Who. He said his 'gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust —'"

"How do you remember stuff like that?" asked Ron, looking at her in admiration. "I listen, Ron," said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

"So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what -"

\---

Ed glanced at the mirror in the bathroom, scowling.

His hair was rather pushed to the side and unkempt, save for his antenna. Edward threw on his usual attire, tucking his red cloak under him and tugging on his gloves.

_Do I remember how to get to the Great Hall?_

He set out, closing the door behind them. Edward looked for a lock, before remembering the painting. Sure enough, the dog in the painting yipped cheerfully, causing Edward to jump. With another cursory glance at the dog in the painting, Ed rounded the corner-

And almost hit Harry. The boy staggered back, falling into Ron and Hermione. "Professor!" They exclaimed. Edward rubbed his head. "Sorry, Harry. Do you have any chance know where the Great Hall is?"

"Oh, we're going there for breakfast, you can come with us!"

"Thanks."

"The point," Hermione pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Dumbledore was talking about. You-Know-Who's only been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting Hats warning was the same: stand together, be united —"

"And Harry got it right last night," retorted Ron. "If that means we're supposed to get matey with the Slytherins-fat chance."

"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity," said Hermione crossly.

"What's wrong with consorting with Slytherins?" Edward had just spotted a figure wearing the green tie in the distance. But it was not only the rich colour that appealed to him. In Ed’s rather Amestrian mind, nothing could compare with ambition and the fiery want of it. Colonel Mustang was a prime example. 

"You don't know, mate" Ron said grimly. "Cunning, ambitious-that doesn't even begin to cover it."

They had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Ravenclaws was crossing the Entrance Hall; they caught sight of Harry and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened he might attack stragglers.

"Yeah, we really ought to be trying to make friends with people like that," said Harry sarcastically.

"Why are they scared of you?"

Harry stared at Edward. "Forgot about you, Edward. Well, last year-" he waved his hand. "-a bunch of stuff happened. I was the only one to see that Voldemort had returned, and-" he blew out a breath crossly. "-Now everyone thinks I'm a nutcase and psycho to boot."

They followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud grey.

"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying," he said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

"Maybe..." said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" said both Harry and Ron together.

"Well... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."

"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Ron, half-laughing. "How could we not notice?"

"Who's Hagrid?"

"He's this large bloke, Gamekeeper of Hogwarts. Real nice, loves magical creatures a bit too much. You'll like him. But he's not here right now, we think he's on some sort of mission-"

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry.

"Hi, Angelina."

"Hi," she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," said Harry, grinning at her; he suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as longwinded as Oliver Wood's had been, which could only be an improvement.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new personnel fit in."

"Okay," said Harry.

Angelina smiled at him and departed.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left," said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside Ron and pulled a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He was a good Keeper..." "Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Ron.

"Quidditch?"

"Yeah, I told you about that earlier Edward, we play it on brooms in the air." Edward gaped at the wizards. "And you're on the team?"

"Yep, been on the team since I was eleven."

"You're crazy!"

They laughed, helping themselves to food. Edward glanced worridley at the teacher's table, where Flitwick and Sprout were sitting. "Should I be sitting there?"

"I don't know" Harry cocked his head. "Well, most of our teachers were older, so I guess you don't have to."

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside.

Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was hardly surprised; his only correspondent was Sirius, and he doubted Sirius would have anything new to tell him after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably, thinking of Seamus as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm not bothering... load of rubbish."

"It's best to know what the enemy is saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Harry and Ron had finished eating.

"Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you or Dumbledore or anything."

Edward tapped Harry on the shoulder. "I've been meaning to ask you something, about the creatures here."

Harry tilted his head. "I'm not too good at creatures, but sure."

"Yesterday, when I went to the castle, my carriage was pulled by these-" Edward raised his hands. "Big, black, bony creatures. Their eyes were completely white, and they sort of looked like skeletons, with large wings."

Harry froze. What Edward was describing seemed to be what Harry had seen too. "You can see them too?" Harry asked excitedly. So maybe he wasn't going mad, after all.

"What do you mean, can you see them, I thought everyone saw them-" Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out schedules. Edward and Harry frowned at each other. "I'll tell you later" Harry promised.

Mr. Potter...Mr. Weasley, here you go" said Professor McGonagall. Then she saw Edward. "Oh! Edward! I've been been meaning to talk to you." She handed him too a timetable explaining "because you just arrived yesterday, I thought it would be best to give you a feel of the Hogwarts curriculum, so you will be following a few different teachers around for a week."

Edward looked the slightest bit relieved. "Thanks, Minerva."

Harry whispered to Ron, "it feels so weird that he's on a first-name basis with a teacher." Harry nodded. "But he's a teacher too, remember?"

"Oh yeah..."

Edward glared. "I heard that." He pointed to his paper. "It says here I have Transfigurations, is that you?"

McGonagall nodded. "You'll just be monitoring the class, see how things are done. I'll do most of the talking, so don't worry. Also-"

She pointed to the bottom, where a few boxes were blank. "I took the liberty of emptying some of your days so you can come up with a proper curriculum to teach your students."

"Thanks. See you after breakfast."

After McGonagall left Ron spoke.

"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defense Against the Dark Arts... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! Say, Ed, what do you have after Transfigurations?"

Ed glanced at his paper. "Says here I have...after seventh-year Transfiguration, I have fifth-year double Potions, and-" he frowned. "The other boxes are blank, so that's probably what McGonagall meant, she wanted to give me more extra time so I could come up with something to teach next week."

"You have Potions with us!"

"I'm not in the class, I'm just monitoring how things are done."

"I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted..."

"Do mine ears deceive me?'" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose.

"That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself to a kipper.

"Cheers," said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, "but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."

"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.

"Says me," said Hermione. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.

"Fifth year's OWL year," said George.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," said George happily. "Tears and tantrums... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint..."

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pajamas," said George.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow."

"Yeah... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" said Ron.

"Yep," said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George brightly, "now that we've got-"

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.

"- now that we've got our OWLs," George said hastily. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials - and premises too, I suppose..."

Harry did not look at the twins. His face felt hot; he deliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. He heard Fred say overhead, "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology."

Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.

"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron. "'Ask us no questions... ' Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Ron, his brow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons..."

Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters. "D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"So OWLs are a type of exam?"

"Yeah, Ed, we have to take them in the fifth year."

Edward had the start of a horrible grin on his face. "I'm thinking on what I should test you on..." Both Ron and Harry considerably paled.

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked the other two, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.

"Not really," said Ron slowly. "Except... well..."

He looked slightly sheepish.

"What?" Harry urged him.

'"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,'" said Ron in an off-hand voice. "Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite," said Ron. "You've got to be really good. What about you, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she said. "I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile." "An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.

"What's an Auror?"

"Auror's work for the Ministry and they fight Dark Wizards."

Edward wrinkled his nose. "I thought you were supposed to stay away from the Ministry, no?"

"Say" interrupted Ron. "Your voice sounds a bit different now, Edward. You have more of an accent 'round the edges."

"Oh, yes" said Edward. "I haven't used the translation spell in a few days, and I've made an effort to study more English."

"Blimey! You managed to speak English after coming to England a few weeks ago?" Ron shook his head in amazement. "Guess you weren't lying when you said you were a prodigy, then" Ron speared another scone before Hermione dragged Harry and him off to History of Magic and they waved Edward farewell.

\---

Edward knocked on the front of McGonagall's door and it opened a second later. "Come in, Edward, the seventh-years are coming soon."

She gestured to a small desk beside hers. "You can sit here."

"Seventh-years are the oldest students, right?"

"Yes, they are, from the ages of seventeen and eighteen. Many ambitious students are planning on taking their NEWTs so this lesson will be more complicated than usual, it's fine if you don't understand, Edward, this is only so you get a feel of what the teaching atmosphere."

"Okay. But what _exactly_ is Transfiguration?"

"Transfiguration is the change in shape or form of any object, to put it simply. Let me show you." She waved a stick-no, wand and Edward's pen changed into a salamander. It was bright red and rather active, almost running off the desk. But before Edward could scream, she changed it back.

He stared at the still pen, eyes wide and heart thumping.

_There's no Equivalent Exchange._

_Salamanders: Water, blood, keratin proteins, to name a few components._

_My pen: metal, silver, ink._

_How did-?_

_That wouldn't work._

_But McGonagall changed the pen._

_Wha-?_

Just then, before Edward could question McGonagall the final bell rang and the seventh-years walked in.

_They're tall._

_Really, really tall._

_McGonagall said they were seventeen or eighteen?_

_Maybe I'll be that tall when I'm seventeen..._

Many students were staring at Edward, and he recognized three faces: the twins, to his exasperation, and the tall girl who had spoken to Harry about Quidditch.

One student pointed to Edward. "Who's that, Professor?" But before Ed or McGonagall could answer, another one sniggered, "probably a first-year in trouble, mate."

Edward slammed his palms on the desk.

Hard.

"I'm not a first year" he growled, jabbing a thumb towards him. "I'm your Alchemy Professor."

"Which you should remember from last night's feast, Jenkins." Said McGonagall, as she waved for them to take their seats.

Jenkins gawked. "You're joking-him? A teacher?"

"You better believe it, you-"

"That's enough, Mr. Elric, Jenkins" McGonagall said firmly. "Sit down, everyone."

Fred shot Ed a surprised look.

McGonagall stood in front of her desk. "Now as you may be wondering why Professor Elric is accompanying me, it is because Alchemy does not start until next week. He may or may not show up in your other classes as a teacher's aide."

She smoothed the front of her skirts. "Anyways, on to a bigger subject, your NEWTs...."

\---

Edward slumped his head against the desk as the seventh-years tidied up their tables.

_Ugh._

_Magic...I don't get any of it._

_When was school this hard?_

McGonagall tapped his shoulder. "Professor Elric, are you alright?"

Edward straightened up. "Yeah, I'm fine, McGonagall, just a bit...overwhelmed."

She nodded sympathetically. "You're a Muggle, right? It must be hard, magic-"

"No, no. Not the magic part." He showed her a few pages of the frantic notes he'd taken during the lesson. "I get what you're doing, Transfigurating something, but I just can't wrap my mind around it. Waving your wand, saying a spell, and bam!" He sighed. "An object appears, no elements similar to the first one."

"You seemed to be paying more attention than the Weasley twins."

Edward frowned. "They're smart. Don't underestimate them."

"I know that, Mister Elric. But the way they've been acting...makes me think they're planning something." She glanced at her watch. "You might want to hurry to Potions, Edward. You'll find Severus' teaching methods are...different than mine."

\---

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather.

He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.

Today, they suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. Harry heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands this subject might have been mildly interesting, but then his brain disengaged, and he spent the remaining hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of his parchment with Ron, while Hermione shot them filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.

"How would it be," she asked them coldly, as they left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our OWL," said Ron. "If you want that on your conscience, Hermione..." "Well, you'd deserve it," she snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?"

"We do try" said Ron. "We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration - you're just cleverer than we are - is it nice to rub it in?"

"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," said Hermione, but she looked slightly mollified as she led the way out into the damp courtyard.

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year.

They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

"Hello, Harry!"

It was Cho Chang and, what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.

"Hi," said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You got that stuff off, then?"

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. "So, did you... er... have a good summer?"

The moment he had said this he wished he hadn't - Cedric had been Cho's boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harrys. Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, "Oh, it was all right, you know..."

"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold 'T' was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway... see you, Harry."

She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron.

"You are so tactless!"

"What? I only asked her if -"

"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?"

"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping -"

"Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?"

"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only -"

"Who cares if she supports the Tornados?"

"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season -

"But what does it matter!"

"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the bandwagon -"

"That's the bell," said Harry dully, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it.

"Hey!"

The three turned to see Edward running towards them. "Where the hell is the Potions room?"

"It's in the dungeons" Hermione said sourly, not over her spat with Ron. "We have Snape's class right now, just follow us."

They filed into the classroom to their usual table at the back, where he sat down between Ron and Hermione and ignored the huffy, irritable noises now issuing from both of them.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my... displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that he would be able to give up Potions after fifth year.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students."

He waved a bat-like arm towards Ed. "This is Professor Elric, and if any of you dunderheads were listening yesterday, you would know he is the new Alchemy professor. You may take a seat beside my desk, Elric."

As Edward walked across the room to beside Snape's desk Harry couldn't held but notice that Ed was taking measures to walk quietly, stepping slower so his boots would not emit the click that had echoed down the halls of Grimmauld.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. "The ingredients and method -" Snape flicked his wand "- are on the blackboard -" (they appeared there) "- you will find everything you need —" he flicked his wand again "- in the store cupboard —" (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "- you have an hour and a half... start."

Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

\---

_I thought potions were just random mixing._

_Guess I was wrong._

_ But it’s still easier than Transfigurations... _

Edward scribbled down the ingredients and steps from the blackboard, comparing it with his past knowledge of chemistry and apothecaries.

_All of these materials are somewhat normal..._

_Hellebore...yep._

_Valerian root...yes, if you were making a so-called "Draught of Peace" you could use that, it's good for calming the heart rate...._

_Powdered moonstone...moonstones are rather pricy, but Hogwarts doesn't have a problem with that..._

_Wait a minute._

Edward took a double take, glancing at his notes and the chalkboard.

_Powdered unicorn horn?_

_What the hell?_

_Unicorns exist?_

He slumped.

_Magic._

_Crazy._

\---

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. Perhaps something that was irking Harry even more was Ed’s obvious interest in Potions. Edward had been scribbling in his notebook for the past five minutes. 

The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticize.

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco Malfoy laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-colored steam now filling the dungeon.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes. "Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. Ed looked more interested in how Snape vanished the potion than he did at Harry’s angry expression. 

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape.

"Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday."

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than Ron's, which was now giving off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron; yet it was he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day's work.

He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down on to his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and had already started his lunch by the time Ron and Hermione joined him in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.

Edward joined them, looking thoroughly nonplussed with the lesson.

"That was really unfair," said Hermione consolingly, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean... you know..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table "... now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely. "Anyway I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"Snape used to work for Voldemort?"

"Yeah, Ed, he was a real Death-Eater, but now he's supposed to be good..."

"I'm pretty sure Dumbledore has some reasons for that..."

\---

In his room Edward converted his scribbled text and notes to his secret Alchemy notes.

_Better to be safe than sorry._

Not only did he change the notes to Amestrian, they were in such a way that no one else could read them. Alphonse had said that it was completely illegible in his eyes.

Ed growled as the tip of the pen swivelled, leaving a mark on the paper. Even after writing left-handed for a few years sometimes his hand reminded him that he was born a righty.

The metal arm couldn't detect the slight changed in writing, so writing was with the left arm and everything else was for the right.

_I should ask McGonagall for more advice on the students._

_I still don't really know what their learning level is._

To his relief he hadn't seen Umbridge today. The woman gave him a bad feeling, not as bad as the chill when he'd met Father, but something equally sinister.

He stowed his belongings away in his trunk, remembering the directions McGonagall had given him yesterday to her office.

Just as he raised his hand to knock the door opened, Professor McGonagall evidently just about to walk out. She raised her eyebrows. "Can I help you, Edward?"

"I was going to ask you about the students, but-"

"Well, if it won't take you much time you can ask me as we walk. I forgot something in the staffroom."

The two walked down the halls, down the stairs (Ed make sure to clutch the banister tightly) and to the staffroom. There weren't any other teachers in the room, Ed assumed they had class or were in their private offices.

McGonagall walked deeper into the staffroom, where there was a few small cupboards. Ed glanced around the staffroom.

There was a brown upright piano on the side. It had not been used in some time, there was a thin layer of dust over it. Ed ran a gloved hand over the cover.

"Do you play piano?"

Ed glanced back to McGonagall. He drew his hand back from the piano. "No, I don't. My brother used to."

That was true. There had been an old piano in their storage room in Resembool. Ed had not given it any time, as he was fixated on Alchemy. But Al thought otherwise. Sometimes, when Al wanted a break from learning Ed would hear the clumsily-made notes echoing around his old home.

"Would you like a biscuit?"

Edward glanced at the small tin in her hand. Inside were little cookies shaped a bit like lizards. Edward reached for one. "Thanks" he grabbed a lizard-shaped cookie, biting the head off first.

_Tastes a bit like gingerbread._

_Still good._

When they were back in her office McGonagall set the tin on top of a few paper piles. "So what did you want to ask me about, Edward?"

"I wanted to ask you about the students, I'm a bit concerned about-" but the rest of his words were cut off when they heard someone yelling outside.

McGonagall frowned. "Excuse me."

She opened the door.

\---

"Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad, But some are more kindly and think he's just sad, but Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad — "

Harry had enough.

"SHUT UP!"

A door to his left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

"What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?" she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. '"Why aren't you in class?"

"I've been sent to see you," said Harry stiffly. "Sent? What do you mean, sent?"

He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

"Come in here, Potter."

He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him. To his surprise, Ed was seated there too, looking equally astonished.

"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. "Is this true?"

"Is what true?" Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. "Professor?" he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?" "Yes," said Harry.

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

"Yes."

Edward grinned. "Nice one."

"Edward" McGonagall said firmly. Edward closed his mouth.

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter."

"Have - what?"

"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin of cookies lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."

Ed nodded. "The cookies are good, you should try one."

There had been a previous occasion when Harry, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He sank into a chair opposite her and helped himself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong footed as he had done on that occasion.

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry. "Potter, you need to be careful."

Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention."

"What do you -?"

"Potter, use your common sense," snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting."

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

"It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.

"Every evening this week!" Harry repeated, horrified, just as Edward swore. "But, Professor, couldn't you -?"

"No, I couldn't," said Professor McGonagall flatly. "And Edward, please mind your language."

"But -"

"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

"But I was telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged. "Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is -"

"For heaven's sake, Potter!" said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!"

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too. "Have another biscuit," she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.

"No, thanks," said Harry coldly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.

He took one. Edward took an extra three for himself.

"Thanks," he said grudgingly.

"Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Potter?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah... she said... progress will be prohibited or... well, it meant that... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for him.

"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate," she said, pointing him out of her office.

Edward snickered.

McGonagall whipped around to face him. "I thought a professor is to act _mature_ , Edward, and not laugh over petty matters!"

This time it was Harry's turn to snicker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I liked the ending quite a bit, I thought it sounded cool. 
> 
> Also, I have this little idea in my mind that because Ed is a prodigy in Alchemy he should be somewhat skilled in Potions and Herbology in some extent, right?? 
> 
> But yes, that was Ed’s first day at Hogwarts!
> 
> Comment your thoughts down below, don’t forget to leave kudos, and come back next week gang :)
> 
> -thank you for reading!!-


	9. Bowtruckles and White Gloves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo! 
> 
> While reviewing this chapter, I thought about how this didn’t add too much into the storyline. So I have decided to post this chapter today and another chapter tomorrow :)

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harry. The news about his shouting match with Umbridge had traveled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts' standards. He heard whispers all around him as he sat eating between Ron and Hermione.

The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered..."

"He reckons he dueled with You-Know-Who..." "Come off it..."

"Who does he think he's kidding?"

"Pur-Lease..."

"What I don't get," said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them..."

"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here."

She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.

"What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked Hermione when they reached the first-floor landing.

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body... none of us saw what happened in the maze... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" said Harry loudly.

"I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?" said Hermione wearily. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"

Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over his right eye. He glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of them scrambled through it.

The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three favorite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.

"How can Dumbledore have let this happen?" Hermione cried suddenly, making Harry and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!"

"Well, we've never had great Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" said Harry. "You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed."

"Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?"

"And she's trying to get people to spy for her," said Ron darkly. "Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?"

"Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?" snapped Hermione.

"Don't start arguing again," said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. "Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way..."

They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was attracting.

"Shall we do Snape's stuff first?" said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. "The properties... of moonstone... and its uses... in potion-making..." he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. "There." He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.

"So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?"

"Hey, maybe we should ask Ed, what do you think about that?"

But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.

"No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far," she said, standing up and looking positively furious. "Come on, Ron."

"I - what?" said Ron, plainly playing for time. "No- come on, Hermione - we can't tell them off for giving out sweets."

"You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or - or Puking Pastilles or -"

"Fainting Fancies?" Harry suggested quietly.

One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years.

Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then muttered to Harry, "She's got it under control," before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.

"That's enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.

"Yeah, you're right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"

"I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"

"We're paying them!" said Fred indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"

"Rubbish," said Fred.

"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.

"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," said George.

A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harry was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.

"Feel all right?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.

"I - I think so," she said shakily.

"Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.

"It is NOT excellent!"

"Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" said Fred angrily.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same -"

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to -"

"Put us in detention?" said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.

"Make us write lines?" said George, smirking.

Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.

"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother." "You wouldn't," said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.

"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years, you-"

"QUIET!"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut, and she whipped around, looking too see who had interrupted her. Everyone else was looking around too, until a white-gloved hand waved from the entrance.

People moved out of the way until Edward was visible, near the entrance.

\---

Edward leaned back in his chair, in his room. The chair creaked.

He rocked back and forth, thinking.

_I haven't had the chance to go to the library._

_But I have to think about what to teach the students._

_When have you cared about teaching a few snot-nosed brats?_

Edward took out his silver pocketwatch. He ran his left hand over the watch's cover, feeling the silver crest of Amestris and the State Alchemists on it. The watch popped open.

_I should get that fixed._

_I never bothered to lock it after Winry busted it open._

He held his open watch up to the light, illuminating the scratched-in words on the side, _Don't forget, 3 Oct. 11_

Ed clenched the watch tighter.

_Stupid Fuhrer._

_Stupid Homunculus._

He thought of Mustang, hungry for more power. He thought of Armstrong, at the rank of Major but never being promoted for his weakness in Ishval.

The door knocked.

Edward jumped, falling off the chair and losing his hold on the watch. He fell to the floor on his automail leg with a crash, while his watch bounced off the ground with a slight clink.

"Mr. Elric?" It was McGonagall.

Edward snatched his pocketwatch off the ground, closing it and stuffing it back in his pocket. He stood up, righting the chair.

He opened the door. "Yes?"

McGonagall handed him a paper. It was a sort of poster, with the words OWLs: Ordinary Wizarding Levels scrawled on top. Down the poster was a success criteria.

"Can you go to the Gryffindor common room and put this up? Pomona and Filius have already put these up in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms, I need to tell Severus about it."

"Sure, but where-"

"The Gryffindors live in the North Tower, that way up the stairs" said McGonagall pointing at a set of stairs.

"Yes, no problem."

"Don't forget, the password's Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

"Got it."

When making his way to the Gryffindor common roon the staircases changed courses no less than three times, leaving Edward waiting for the next shift, poster clenched in his hand.

_Damn stairs._

_This castle's magicked, what do you expect?_

It was still hard to think of magic. Magic was something that disobeyed the Equivalent Exchange as much as one could, it was as different from Alchemy as could be.

Finally, he reached a portrait of a rather fat lady. She looked at him. "A new first year? I haven't seen you before."

"I'm a professor."

"Really? You look too short to be-"

"I'm not short!"

"No need to yell-"

"Mimbulus mimbletonia" Edward said tersely, just wanting it to all be over. The portrait swung, exposing a large room behing. Edward climbed clumsily over, into the common room.

It was packed with people, many that were taller than him. There was a sort of commotion going on in the center, and it was too loud, Edward would never be able to stick the damn poster on the bulletin board.

_The faster I do that, the faster I can go back to my room._

"QUIET!"

\---

Harry watched as Edward walked over to the bulletin board and stuck a crumpled poster there. He jabbed a finger at it, waving to the onlookers. "McGonagall told me to stick it up here."

But as he stomped to the entrance Fred's hand caught his shoulder. "Hey, don't leave just yet, Edward" he said, easygoing. "George and I just wanted to ask you something." They leaned closer. "We've got a little bit of free time, due to-" he shot a look at Hermione, who returned it defiantly. "-someone. And could you do us a small, eensy weensy favour?"

"What?" Ed said, annoyed. But that was all it took for Fred and George to steer Ed into the corner, Lee Jordan trailing behind them.

"Thank you for your support, Ron," Hermione said acidly, as she sat down with Ron and Harry. She sent a look towards the twins and Lee Jordan, who were talking rather animatedly to Edward.

"You handled it fine by yourself," Ron mumbled.

Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, "Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed."

She wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and stood back to admire the effect.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity.

"They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."

"You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes," said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag on to her back.

"That's not on," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free."

"Of course they want to be free!" said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. "Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!"

She turned on her heel and left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls' dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats.

"They should at least see what they're picking up," he said firmly. "Anyway..." he rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay, "there's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?"

Harry shook his head, noticing as he did so that the ache in his right temple was getting worse. "We should ask Edward after the twins are done with him."

Ron glanced regretfully at the twins and Lee Jordan, who seemed to be asking Edward a lot of questions. Judging by Edward's sour expression, they weren't exactly fun. "That isn't going to be for a long time, mate."

Harry thought of the long essay on giant wars and the pain stabbed at him sharply. Knowing perfectly well that when the morning came, he would regret not finishing his homework that night, he piled his books back into his bag.

"I'm going to bed too."

He passed Seamus on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, but did not look at him. Harry had a fleeting impression that Seamus had opened his mouth to speak, but he sped up and reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase without having to endure any more provocation.

\---

Edward stared at the paper the twins held in their hands.

"You came up with the formulas?"

On the paper were a few scribbled formulas and notes, some particularly ink-stained.

The twins shrugged. "You can't give us all the credit, Harry-"

"-Lee Jordan got us started on this."

Lee Jordan, a tall seventh-year (but not quite as tall as the twins) grinned. "Mom's a muggle, Dad's a wizard. I went to muggle school until I was eleven-" he tapped his head. "Had to think of elementary school. I used to like science, you know."

Ed looked critically at the paper. "You create these formulas for your potions?"

"They're not potions, exactly-"

"-we call them Skiving Snackboxes!"

He flipped the paper over. "Ipecac, aconite-" his eyes bulged. He jabbed a finger at the paper. "Oi, you idiots! Do you have any idea just how much that amount of aconite is?" He glanced at them shrewdly. "You lot are lucky you aren't dead yet." He took out a pen, scribbling on the paper. "Cut this amount by half...."

George elbowed Lee. "Lee, why'd you add so much-" George squinted his eyes at the word aconite. "Why did you add so much of that?"

"Hey, I'm not a professor!" Lee objected.

"Shut up, you two" Edward said grumpily. "Not only did you add enough aconite to make you throw up and have chills for days, your-" he glared at the title. "-your Nosebleed Nougats need more iron, you should add coriander or basil."

"Thanks a ton, mate-"

"That's not all, you also...."

\---

Edward trudged upstairs well after twelve.

The twins had badgered him for far longer than was necessary, and Edward had just managed to fend them off.

"Densuke" he said wearily, and the black and white dog in the painting pranced energetically before letting him into his room. 

_Tired._

_And I didn't even teach._

As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

\---

Dark.

Dark.

Edward did not dream much.

But of course, he dreamt at Hogwarts.

There was a hand, reaching out for him. Alphonse smiled and laughed.

Edward laughed. Something he hadn't done in a long time.

But just as the two brothers walked toward the house, a woman ran out of it. She had long brown hair and a face rather similar to the brothers.

"Mom!" Alphonse ran towards her, but Ed let go of his brother's hand, lagging behind. He stared at his mother. Trisha Elric was alive and well.

Ed looked down at his hands. Both were somewhat tanned, and a little nicked from the vines that grew around their house. But no automail.

Edward glanced down at his shorts, exposing two bare legs.

_Nothing...happened?_

_My leg is still there._

_Mom didn't die?_

But it was too good to be true. Upon cautiously nearing his mother and Al, Trisha looked up. "Edward, come here" she said sweetly, her voice as kind as the last time Ed had heard it.

"No." Ed's voice trembled.

"Edward, dear, please come here. I haven't seen you in a long time."

"No. You're not my mother."

Trisha-but-not-Trisha bared her teeth suddenly, exposing long fangs. "Dearie, I am your mother." Then she changed again, sinking down and turning into-

No. Not again.

"AL!" Edward screamed, over the howling noise of the wind. "Al, where are you?!"

_Brother_.

A voice reverberated around. "Ed, you didn't save me, again."

Edward whipped his head around, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. "Alphonse! Come here, it's not safe-"

"Nowhere with you is safe, brother."

Images flashed by.

Nina stared at him mournfully through those glassy eyes that weren't hers.

Shou Tucker grinned at Edward."We are the same, Edward, you and I."

Edward jumped out of bed. He looked around frantically.

_AL, Alphonse, where are you?_

But, as reality usually does, it all came crashing down on him.

Edward staggered, placing a hand against the wall for support.

_A dream._

_It was all a dream._

_A stupid dream._

He glanced at himself in the mirror. Ed had fallen asleep last night with his black jeans and shirt still on, and they were rather rumpled. His hair was the same manner.

Edward sighed, covering his eyes with his hands.

_I hate magic._

_I miss Amestris._

\---

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the plus side, no Snape today" said Ron bracingly.

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, "The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron told her cuttingly. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."

Hermione did not speak to him all morning.

Just as they were packing up and ready to leave the hall Edward rushed in. "Ed!" Ron greeted him. "Morning" Edward grumbled, grabbing more than a few slices of toast. Hermione asked "What class are you going to, Edward?"

Toast in his mouth, Edward fished out a crumpled sheet. "....says here I have double charms, fifth year, then double Transfigurations, fifth-year, Hm. I have fifth years a lot..."

"Maybe McGonagall wants you to get a good understanding of the OWL examinations."

"Hm, maybe. Then I have lunch...then Care of Magical Creatures-" Ed's eyes bulged. "Care of Magical Creatures? What is that, hatching dragons?!"

Harry laughed. "I wish. Nah, it's not that interesting. But you have the same classes as us!"

Hermione glanced at the clock worryingly. "Yes, that's nice, but we really do have to go now, Charms starts in a few minutes!"

As they hurried out of the Hall (Ed grabbed another cookie) Umbridge rounded the corner, almost running into them. While Ron and Hermione quickly muttered apologies and moved on Harry and Umbridge seemed to be locked in some sort of staring contest, one Harry was failing miserably.

Edward ushered Harry along, just as Umbridge's glassy eyes stared at his. He cringed, remembering how she had stared at him earlier.

\---

Professor Flitwickspent the first fifteen minutes of his lesson lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

Edward made a note.

Wizards have tests, one in their fifth year, and optional ones in their seventh-year.

He sighed.

_I need to come up with not just a curriculum, but an exam too?_

They then spent over an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their OWL.

Edward watched as the students waved their wand and muttered spells and incantations. He looked at his notebook.

_Accio, to summon, to fetch._

He watched as a few students performed the task with no hassle, and some like poor Neville, who just couldn't seem to do it.

_The ability to call forth an object at will, using their wands._

_That's...convenient._

Flitwick rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.

Ed grinned. _I wonder how much homework I should give them._

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration, in Harry's eyes.

"You cannot pass an OWL," said Professor McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise.

"Yes, you too, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So... today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She was quite right; Harry found the Vanishing Spells horribly difficult. By the end of a double period neither he nor Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing, though Ron said hopefully he thought his looked a bit paler. Hermione, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. She was the only person not given homework; everybody else was told to practice the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.

Edward scowled.

_It would be easier to chuck the snail out the window, why bother Vanishing it?_

Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do, Harry and Ron spent their lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Still angry about Ron's slur on her woolly hats, Hermione did not join them. By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry's head was aching again.

The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces.

Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. Edward recognized her from when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts.

"Professor Elric, I remember you from the Feast" greeted Professor Grubbly-Plank. "This is an interesting lesson, I'm glad you're here to see it."

"Mhm" agreed Edward noncommittally, eyeing the forest behind her with no small amount of trepidation.

As Harry and Ron reached Professor Grubbly-Plank, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

Edward narrowed his eyes at Draco. He remembered him less fondly.

_Made of money, never worked a day in his life, a silver tongue._

_Sounds like your typical rich family, all right._

_Wait, no. I bet the Armstrongs are ten times richer than this Malfoy idiot._

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Edward stood beside her, surveying the students. Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy Parkinson gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

Edward barely restrained himself from recoiling from the strange creatures. He wished he had brought his red cloak, as he was only dressed in his signature jacket and jeans.

"Oooooh!" said Parvati and Lavender, thoroughly irritating Harry. Anyone would have thought Hagrid had never shown them impressive creatures; admittedly, the Flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the Salamanders and Hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So - anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

Edward twisted his mouth.

_Tree-guardians?_

_Ew._

"Five points for Gryffindor," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Woodlice," said Hermione promptly which explained why what Harry had taken to be grains of brown rice were moving. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."

Fairy eggs?

Edward sighed.

_I really don't want to see that._

"Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle - I have enough here for one between three - you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

_Gouge at human eyes?_

_What the heck?_

_But still better than Sensei's teachings_. He shuddered, remembering the full wrath of Izumi Curtis.

The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Edward walked around the class, eyeing the Bowtruckles cautiously.

Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Where's Hagrid?" he asked her, while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.

"Never you mind," said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle.

"Maybe," said Malfoy in an undertone, so that only Harry could hear him, "the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured."

"Maybe you will if you don't shut up," said Harry out of the side of his mouth. "Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too big for him, if you get my drift."

Malfoy walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Harry, who felt suddenly sick. Did Malfoy know something? His father was a Death Eater after all; what if he had information about Hagrid's fate that had not yet reached the ears of the Order? He hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. Harry pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Malfoy had just said.

"Dumbledore would know if some thing had happened to Hagrid," said Hermione at once. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face..."

"Yes," came Malfoy's clear drawl from the group nearest them, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway."

"OUCH!"

Harry had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed still harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up among the tree roots. Edward glanced at the retreating figure.

"Edward" called Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Can you get all the Bowtruckles back here?"

Ed withheld a groan. "Sure thing."

He passed Neville, who was rather struggling with the Bowtruckle and bore numerous scratches across his hands. He was relieved to pass the Bowtruckle to Edward.

Ed pinched the Bowtruckle between his fingers, watching the little creature wriggle with great distaste. He moved on to Seamus and Dean.

Edward held out his hand. "Bowtruckle" he said bluntly. While Dean nodded and handed him the struggling creature, Seamus asked him curiously, "you're our Alchemy teacher, right?"

"Yep" Ed grumbled.

"When are you going to teach us?"

"Starting next week. I'm s'posed to learn how to teach by coming to your classes."

When he passed them, he heard Seamus whisper to Dean, "you know, I thought he'd be taller..."

Ed whipped his head back. "I heard that."

Why are these people so freaking tall?

He took the Bowtruckle from Lavender and Parvati, getting to Malfoy. Edward transferred the three Bowtruckles to his right hand, holding his hand out to Draco with his left.

"Bowtruckle" Edward said, bored.

"Very well" Malfoy said smoothly, passing the Bowtruckle to him.

As Ed regained his grip on the now-four Bowtruckles Malfoy asked snidely, "Where're you from, Elri-sorry, I mean Professor Elric?"

Edward glared at him. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Do you know who my father is?"

"Unfortunately," Ed commented dryly. Harry and Ron heard and snickered.

"Professor!"

Ed turned his head to see Hermione staring at him. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Look at your hand!"

He looked down, to his surprise to see the Bowtruckles in his hand frantically clawing at his hand. He must have been squeezing too hard with his automail hand. Speaking of automail, the Bowtruckles had clawed through a considerable space of Edward's glove, exposing a shine of metal-

Edward half threw half dropped them at Grubbly-Plank's feet, stuffing his ruined glove and exposed metal hand in his pocket.

"Ed, are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly. She pointed to Harry's hand, where blood was seeping through a handkerchief. "Harry also got scratched, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey, are you bleeding?"

Edward put on a reassuring smile. "No, no, they just nicked me."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but as the bell rang Edward turned back to the castle. "I've got a free period!" he called.

Harry rolled up his blood-stained Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with his hand wrapped in Hermione's handkerchief, and Malfoy's derisive laughter still ringing in his ears.

"If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time..." said Harry through gritted teeth.

"Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you..." said Ron.

"The thing I don't understand," said Hermione to Ron and Harry, "I don't understand how Edward could just stand there, not moving as the Bowtruckles were struggling! You saw the Bowtruckles in his hand, right, Ron?"

"Yeah, yeah" agreed Ron. "It's a wonder how he didn't feel the Bowtruckles clawing his hand. I would've chucked 'em at Malfoy."

"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all," said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. "And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" he added threateningly.

"I wasn't going to," said Hermione calmly.

"Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid," said Harry firmly, fully aware that he had just experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and was thoroughly annoyed about it.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

"Hi," she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

"Er - right," said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?' said Hermione impatiently. "There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her," said Hermione. "Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

Harry thought of the sinister winged horses he had seen on the night he had arrived and how Luna had said she could see them too. His spirits sank slightly. Had she been lying? But before he could devote much more thought to the matter, Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him.

"I want you to know, Potter," he said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"Er - thanks very much, Ernie," said Harry, taken aback but pleased. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like this, but Harry was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who did not have radishes dangling from their ears. Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown's face and as he turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught Seamus's expression, which looked both confused and defiant.

To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs. Harry wished all the teachers would stop doing this; he was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in his stomach every time he remembered how much homework he had to do, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprout's preferred type of fertilizer, the Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.

As Harry was starving, and he had his first detention with Umbridge at five o'clock, he headed straight for dinner without dropping off his bag in Gryffindor Tower so that he could bolt something down before facing whatever she had in store for him. He had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice yelled, "Oy, Potter!"

"What now?" he muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.

"I'll tell you what now," she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"What?" said Harry. "Why... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!"

"Now he remembers!" snarled Angelina. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the wholeteam, and find someone who fitted in with everyone! Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there!" said Harry, stun g by the injustice of these words. "I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who."

"Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday," said Angelina fiercely, "and I don't care how you do it. Tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!"

She turned on her heel and stormed away.

"You know what?" Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because Angelina seems to be channeling his spirit."

"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?" said Ron skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Less than zero," said Harry glumly, tipping lamb c hops on to his plate and starting to eat. "Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno..." He swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, "I hope she doesn't keep me too long this evening. You realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a counter-charm for Flitwick, finish the Bowtruckle drawing and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"

Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling.

"And it looks like it's going to rain."

"What's that got to do with our homework?" said Hermione, her eyebrows raised. "Nothing," said Ron at once, his ears reddening.

At five to five Harry bade the other two goodbye and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor.

—-

"Ron?"

After Umbridge's tortuous detention, Harry had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Harry and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back.

"What are you doing?"

"Er - nothing. What are you doing?"

Harry frowned at him."Come on, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm - I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know," said Ron hastily. "They just went past with a bunch of first-years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again. I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there." He was talking in a very fast, feverish way.

"But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.

"I - well - well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?" Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. "I - I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," said Harry. Ron blinked. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

"I'm not bad," said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. "Charlie, Fred and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."

"So you've been practicing tonight?"

"Every evening since Tuesday... just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be." Ron looked nervous and anxious. "Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."

"I wish I was going to be there," said Harry bitterly, as they set off together towards the common room.

"Yeah, so do - Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?"

Harry, who had just scratched his nose with his free right hand, tried to hide it, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep.

"It's just a cut - it's nothing - it's -"

But Ron had grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled the back of Harry's hand up level with his eyes. There was a pause, during which he stared at the words carved into the skin, then, looking sick, he released Harry. "I thought you said she was just giving you lines?"

Harry hesitated, but after all, Ron had been honest with him, so he told Ron the truth about the hours he had been spending in Umbridge's office.

"The old hag!" Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame. "She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!"

"No," said Harry at once. "I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me." "Got to you? You can't let her get away with this!"

"I don't know how much power McGonagall's got over her," said Harry.

"Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!"

"No," said Harry flatly.

"Why not?"

"He's got enough on his mind," said Harry, but that was not the true reason. He was not going to go to Dumbledore for help when Dumbledore had not spoken to him once since June.

"Well, I reckon you should -" Ron began, but he was interrupted by the Fat Lady, who had been watching them sleepily and now burst out, "Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Ed doesn’t like Bowtruckles too much...
> 
> Tell me your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> Next chapter up tomorrow :)


	10. Umbridge and Sirius and Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! :)
> 
> I have posted this now because I didn’t want you guys hanging on a blank chapter, so here you go :D
> 
> Now that I think of it, Ed hasn’t really talked with Umbridge, has he?
> 
> Think of this chapter as a build-up to Ed vs. Umbridge (aka midget wars)

As the days went by, Edward fell into a sort of rhythm. He went to the classes that were on his timetable, and examined how the other teachers taught.

He thought McGonagall might be the best to model his teaching on. He simply did not have the finesse nor the voice to control the class as well as Snape, nor did he want to bore them to death like Mr. Binns.

After dinner on Friday Edward sat in his room, taking his many books out of his suitcase and reading them, deeming which ones were fit for teaching.

Edward frowned. Now that he thought of it, Harry seemed to be in a worse mood the past few days. Plus, he seemed a bit stiffer.

_Maybe he injured himself._

_I wouldn't be surprised, wizards flying around on brooms. A recipe for disaster._

He stacked a few books on his desk.

_Those are good._

_I can't believe it's only been a week._

_Maybe I can get used to this._

_Don't loosen up, as soon as you're done this job you're going back to Amestris to prepare to fight._

He frowned.

_That Umbridge cow._

_I wonder what she's up to?_

\---

"You know what to do, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, smiling sweetly at Harry.

Harry picked up the quill and glanced through the window. If he just shifted his chair an inch or so to the right... on the pretext of shifting himself closer to the table, he managed it. He now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance.

_I must not tell lies,_ Harry wrote. The cut in the back of his right hand opened and began to bleed afresh.

_I must not tell lie_ s. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.

_I must not tell lies_. Blood trickled down his wrist.

He chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed. Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Harry dared to watch. Hoping very much that the Keeper wasn't Ron, he dropped his eyes back to the parchment shining with blood.

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

He looked up whenever he thought he could risk it; when he could hear the scratching of Umbridges quill or the opening of a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth was terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but then fumbled an easy save. The sky was darkening, and Harry doubted he would be able to see the sixth and seventh people at all.

_I must not tell lies._

_I must not tell lies._

The parchment was now dotted with drops of blood from the back of his hand, which was searing with pain. When he next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" said Umbridges soft voice half an hour later. She moved towards him, stretching out her short ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.

He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she said softly.

He did not answer. His heart was thumping very hard and fast. Was she talking about his hand or did she know what he had just felt in his forehead?

"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."

He caught up his schoolbag and left the room as quickly as he could.

_Stay calm_ , he told himself, as he sprinted up the stairs. _Stay calm, it doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means..._

"Mimbulus mimbletonia!" he gasped at the Fat Lady, who swung forwards once more.

A roar of sound greeted him. Ron came running towards him, beaming all over his face and slopping Butterbeer down his front from the goblet he was clutching.

"Harry, I did it, I'm in, I'm Keeper!"

"What? Oh - brilliant!" said Harry, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race and his hand throbbed and bled.

"Have a Butterbeer." Ron pressed a bottle on him. "I can't believe it - where's Hermione gone?"

"She's there," said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

"Well, she said she was pleased when I told her," said Ron, looking slightly put out.

"Let her sleep," said George hastily. It was a few moments before Harry noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakable signs of recent nosebleeds.

"Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver's old robes fit you," called Katie Bell, "we can take off his name and put yours on instead..."

As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry.

"Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Potter," she said abruptly. "It's stressful this managing lark, you know, I'm starting to think I was a bit hard on Wood sometimes." She was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face.

"Look, I know he's your best mate, but he's not fabulous," she said bluntly. "I think with a bit of training he'll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I'm banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hoopers a real whiner, he's always moaning about something or other, and Vicky's involved in all sorts of societies. She admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charms Club she'd put Charms first. Anyway, we're having a practice session at two o'clock tomorrow, so just make sure you're there this time. And do me a favor and help Ron as much as you can, okay?"

He nodded, and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Harry moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put down his bag.

"Oh, Harry, it's you... good about Ron, isn't it?" she said blearily. "I'm just so-so - so tired," she yawned. "I was up until one o'clock making more hat s. They're disappearing like mad!"

And sure enough, now that he looked, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.

"Great," said Harry distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst. "Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm."

Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished, she said slowly "You're worried You- Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?"

"Well," said Harry, dropping his voice, "it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced. "But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he's properly alive again now, isn't he, he's got his own body, he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose..."

Harry watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment. Then Hermione said, "But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?"

"She's evil," said Harry flatly. "Twisted."

"She's horrible, yes, but... Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt."

It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron.

"I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, its not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer - it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all -"

"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this -"

"Yeah," said Harry, before he could stop himself, "that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?"

"Don't say that, it's not true!"

Harry huffed.

Hermione said anxiously, "Harry, maybe you should tell Edward?"

Harry snapped, "he doesn't even know much about my scar, he can't help, I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks -"

"Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!" said Hermione, looking alarmed. "Don't you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted any more!"

"All right, all right, I won't tell him, then!" said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. "I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?"

"Oh no," said Hermione, looking relieved, "if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun, I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now."

Harry looked into her face, which was shining with glee, and tried to look as though he was vaguely tempted by this offer.

"Er... no, I don't think I will, thanks," he said. "Er- not tomorrow. I've got loads of homework to do..."

And he traipsed off to the boys' stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed.

\---

_Saturday, the next day_

_Owlery_

"I wonder why Filch thought you were sending Dungbombs?" Cho asked as she carried the owl to the window. Harry shrugged. He was quite as mystified by that as she was, though oddly it was not bothering him very much at the moment.

They left the Owlery together. At the entrance of a corridor that led towards the west wing of the castle, Cho said, "I'm going this way. Well, I'll... I'll see you around, Harry."

"Yeah... see you."

She smiled at him and departed. Harry walked on, feeling quietly elated. He had managed to have an entire conversation with her and not embarrassed himself once... you were really brave standing up to her like that... Cho had called him brave... she did not hate him for being alive... Of course, she had preferred Cedric, he knew that... though if he'd only asked her to the Ball before Cedric had, things might have turned out differently... she had seemed sincerely sorry that she'd had to refuse when Harry asked her...

"Morning," Harry said brightly to Ron and Hermione as he joined them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

"What are you looking so pleased about?" said Ron, eyeing Harry in surprise.

"Erm... Quidditch later," said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.

"Oh... yeah..." said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, "Listen... you don't fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to - er - give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit."

"Yeah, okay," said Harry.

"Look, I don't think you should," said Hermione seriously. "You're both really behind on homework as it -"

But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.

"Anything interesting?" said Ron. Harry grinned, knowing Ron was keen to keep her off the subject of homework.

"No," she sighed, "just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married."

Hermione opened the paper and disappeared behind it. Harry devoted himself to another helping of eggs and bacon. Ron was staring up at the high windows, looking slightly preoccupied.

"Wait a moment," said Hermione suddenly. "Oh no... Sirius!"

"What's happened?" said Harry, snatching at the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with him and Hermione each holding one half.

"' _The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer... blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!_ '" Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.

"What's this about a murderer?" Interjected Ed from behind them, causing the three to jump.

"Ed, I didn't see you there, you're so short-"

"I'm not short!"

"Quiet, Ed, Ron-"

"Lucius Malfoy I'll bet anything," said Harry in a low, furious voice. "He did recognize Sirius on the platform..."

"What?" said Ron, looking alarmed. "You didn't say -" "Shh!" said the other two.

". _.. 'warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous... killed thirteen people... broke out of Azkaban..._ ' the usual rubbish," Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry and Ron. "Well, he just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all," she whispered. "Dumbledore did warn him not to."

Harry looked down glumly at the bit of the Prophet he had torn off. Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions, which was apparently having a sale.

"Hey!" he said, flattening it down so Hermione and Ron could see it. "Look at this!"

"I've got all the robes I want," said Ron.

"No," said Harry. "Look... this little piece here..."

Ed, Ron and Hermione bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed right at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:

_TRESPASS AT MINISTRY_

_Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Garden s, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban._

"Sturgis Podmore?" said Ron slowly. "He's that bloke who looks like his head's been thatched, isn't he? He's one of the Ord—"

"Ron, shh!" said Hermione, casting a terrified look around them.

"Six months in Azkaban!" whispered Harry, shocked. "Just for trying to get through a door!"

Ed thought, _eh, if someone broke through the Fuhrer's door I think they'd have it worse than being imprisoned for a while._

"Don't be silly, it wasn't just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o'clock in the morning?" breathed Hermione.

"D'you reckon he was doing something for the Order?" Ron muttered.

"Wait a moment..." said Harry slowly. "Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?"

The other two looked at him.

"Yeah, he was supposed to be part of our guard going to King's Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn't turn up; so he couldn't have been on a job for them, could he?"

"Well, maybe they didn't expect him to get caught," said Hermione.

"It could be a frame-up!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "No - listen!" he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. "The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so - I dunno - they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!"

There was a pause while Harry, Ed and Hermione considered this. Harry thought it seemed farfetched.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed."Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true."

She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. As Harry laid down his knife and fork, she seemed to come out of a reverie.

"Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilizing shrubs first and if we're lucky we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch..."

Harry felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework awaiting him upstairs, but the sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and he had not been on his Firebolt for a week...

"Ed, can you help us?"

Edward replied, "I can't help you with anything magic. Maybe some Potions and Herbology, that's about it."

"I mean, we can do it tonight," said Ron, as he and Harry walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders, and with Hermione's dire warnings that they would fail all their OWLs still ringing in their ears. "And we've got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, that's her trouble..." There was a pause and he added, in a slightly more anxious tone, "D'you think she meant it when she said we weren't copying from her?"

"Yeah, I do," said Harry. "Still, this is important, too, we've got to practice if we want to stay on the Quidditch team..."

"Yeah, that's right," said Ron, in a heartened tone. "And we have got plenty of time to do it all..."

"Edward, do you want to come with us?"

"And fly on brooms? No, thank you."

"No, no, we'll be the ones on brooms, you can watch!"

"Mmm."

"Don't you want to get a little fresh air?"

That was a good point. At times, it got rather stiffly in the old castle. Edward turned to the stairs. "Let me get some papers first."

\---

As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Harry glanced over to his right to where the trees of the Forbidden Forest were swaying darkly. Nothing flew out of them; the sky was empty but for a few distant owls fluttering around the Owlery tower. He had enough to worry about.

They collected balls from the cupboard in the changing room and set to work, Ron guarding the three tall goalposts, Harry playing Chaser and trying to get the Quaffle past Ron. Harry thought Ron was pretty good; he blocked three-quarters of the goals Harry attempted to put past him and they played better the longer they practiced.

Edward glanced up at them from the seats, a mass of papers around him. A few were weighted down with stones to keep them from flying away.

_Crazy._

_How are they not falling off?_

Harry startled Edward by zooming close to him. Edward jerked, his papers flying from his hand. Harry landed. "Sorry, Ed" he said apologetically, but Ed pointed to the papers getting lost in the wind. "If you're so sorry, get those for me, will you?"

_Ed talks like an old person._

_But he's fifteen._

Sure enough, Harry zoomed after the flyaway papers, snatching them out of the air and handing them back to Edward.

After a couple of hours they returned to the castle for lunch - during which Hermione made it quite clear she thought they were irresponsible — then returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. Edward had not returned with them; evidently, he thought the library was more interesting than quidditch.

All their teammates but Angelina were already in the changing room when they entered. "All right, Ron?" said George, winking at him.

"Yeah," said Ron, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.

"Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?" said Fred, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on his face.

"Shut up," said Ron, stony-faced, pulling on his own team robes for the first time. They fitted him well considering they had been Oliver Wood's, who was rather broader in the shoulder.

"Okay, everyone," said Angelina, entering from the Captain's office, already changed. "Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?"

\---

_The smell of books._

_I love it._

His smile turned upside-down.

_That's going to be useless if there's nothing about Alchemy._

Ed looked at the large tomes of reading he'd picked. Madam Pince hadn't been a big believer when he said he was a professor, but she let him nonetheless into the restricted sections.

_At least Major Armstrong isn't here._

He shivered, remembering how the Major would pop up in the most peculiar places.

Edward flipped his first Hogwarts library book.

_Let's see how smart these wizards really are._

\---

_Wizards are crazy._

_I don't think I've said it enough times._

Edward rested his head on top of a book.

_Garbage, nothing._

He had found close to nothing on the theory of Alchemy, more on senseless magical words, in fact. Edward glanced blearily at the book, where it said something along the lines of one clear breakthrough in the history of Alchemy was Nicholas Fla-

Ed shut the book, yawning.

_I'll read more tomorrow. I'm tired._

He picked up the books.

_I wonder how Harry and the others are doing._

\---

"Okay, write that down," Hermione continued brusquely to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, "then add this conclusion I've written for you."

The three were sitting around fireplace, rather late at night. Ron had been in a right mood after their quidditch practice, Harry was partially glad Ed was not there to see it.

"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," said Ron weakly, "and if I'm ever rude to you again -"

"- I'll know you're back to normal," said Hermione. "Harry, yours is okay except for this bit at the end, I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Europa's covered in ice, not mice - Harry?"

Harry had slid off his chair on to his knees and was now crouching on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.

"Er - Harry?" said Ron uncertainly. "Why are you down there?" "Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire," said Harry.

He spoke quite calmly; after all, he had seen Sirius's head in this very fire the previous year and talked to it, too; nevertheless, he could not be sure that he had really seen it this time... it had vanished so quickly...

"Sirius's head?" Hermione repeated. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too - Sirius!"

She gasped, gazing at the fire; Ron dropped his quill. There in the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius's head, long dark hair falling around his grinning face.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half-laughing. "Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear."

"But what if you'd been seen?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Well, I think a girl - first-year, by the look of her - might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry" Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."

"But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk -" Hermione began.

"You sound like Molly," said Sirius. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering

Harrys letter without resorting to a code - and codes are breakable."

At the mention of Harry's letter, Hermione and Ron both turned to stare at him. "You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" said Hermione accusingly.

"I forgot," said Harry, which was perfectly true; h is meeting with Cho in the Owlery had driven everything before it out of his mind. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?"

"No, it was very good," said Sirius, smiling. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed - your scar."

"What about -?" Ron began, but Hermione interrupted him. "We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Sirius."

"Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione's winces. "So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."

"Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often," said Sirius.

"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it," said Sirius. "I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater -"

"She's foul enough to be one," said Harry darkly, and Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though — you should hear Remus talk about her."

"Does Lupin know her?" asked Harry quickly, remembering Umbridge's comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson.

"No," said Sirius, "but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."

Harry remembered how much shabbier Lupin looked these days and his dislike of Umbridge deepened even further.

"What's she got against werewolves?" said Hermione angrily.

"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. "Apparently she loathes part humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose."

Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset.

"Sirius!" she said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said -"

"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted. "Is she training you all to kill half- breeds?"

"No," said Harry, ignoring Hermione's affronted look at being cut off in her defense of Kreacher. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"

"All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron.

"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

"Trained in combat!" repeated Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, "or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing - forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic. That's also why Ed was the only ambassador from Amestris-the Ministry was getting antsy."

There was a pause at this, then Ron said, "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with." But then he lapsed into silence. They all knew Ed's boggart. They saw the way he carried himself. It wasn't so off the mark if Ed knew how to fight, was it?

"So we're being prevented from learning Defense Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" said Hermione, looking furious.

"Yep," said Sirius. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."

This reminded Harry of Percy's letter.

"D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be -"

"I don't know," said Sirius, "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here."

There was a definite note of bitterness in Sirius's voice. "How's Ed been?" Sirius tried to make his voice more cheerful. 

"Ed's been his usual mood, he's in his rooms, would you like me to get him?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, it's okay, Ed should get some rest, the three of you have probably driven him up the wall. Ron and Harry chuckled, remembering Edward's crossness in the morning."So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?"

"Ah..." said Sirius, "well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him." Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, "But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now..." said Hermione in a small, anxious voice.

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home - but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or - well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly okay."

Unconvinced, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," said Sirius hastily, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay." And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could —"

"NO!" said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.

"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue -"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have,' said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius - you know, Lucius Malfoy - so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognizes you again -"

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry.

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look -"

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more.

Ron yawned. "Think we should tell Ed about this? I reckon it might be something we should tell him."

Hermione stood up, rubbing her face. "Later. It's midnight, I'm tired."

\---

Edward joined them for breakfast the next day. He didn't understand why, but the whole lot of them seemed more tense than they were yesterday. There was a reddish mark or scratch peeking out of Harry's sleeve, Edward thought he should investigate that.

When the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug, Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline. 

_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED_

_FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR_

"Umbridge – Inquisitor?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. "What does that maen?" Hermione rad aloud:

_"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.'_

_"This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as August 30 , Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. 'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Dumboldore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success —'"_

"She's been a WHAT?" said Harry loudly. "Wait, there's more," said Hermione grimly.

_"'—an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.'_

_"It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor._

_"'This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted.'_

_"The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts._

_'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'_

_"Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, 'Mad - Eye' Moody._

_"Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.”_

_"'I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night._

_"Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts._

_"'Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.'_

_"(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)"_

Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other three. Edward looked annoyingly unsurprised.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this Decree and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"

"Actually, it's not" said Edward. He snapped his gloved fingers. Edward had made sure to bring spare gloves. "Think, Hermione, Harry, Ron. He's a higher-up. He wants more surveillance. A toad like Umbridge is perfect for this."

"I know it is," said Harry. He looked down at his right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin.

But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

"What?" said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late..."

Edward jumped, swearing. "I forgot! I'm teaching today!"

"Really?"

"Check your timetables!"

Hermione checked, her cheeks flushing. "Oh, it says here we have in the afternoon, Edward, well, better get going..."

But Edward had already started sprinting to his classroom, all thoughts of the High Inquisitor out of his mind.

\---

Ed ran to his classroom, wincing as his automail leg hit the floor unevenly with his real one.

To his dismay, there was already a line forming, meaning he was late.

Ed wrenched open the door, waving to the students. "Alright, class is starting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine if Major Armstrong just popped up in the Hogwarts Library, I think Edward would have a heart attack!
> 
> I think Ed would be utterly lost on Quidditch. In fact, I doubt he would even want to watch people flying in the air. Ed strikes me as someone with airsickness (don’t know why). 
> 
> I’ve been trying to speed things up to Dumbledore’s Army quicker...
> 
> See you next week!
> 
> And obviously, thank you very much for reading!
> 
> Please comment your thoughts below!


	11. Teaching Day 1 (stones and drinks and the past)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been a banner at the top of the ao3 site for two days (I think). Talking about a system maintenance or something? It cautions against deleting works but never said anything about posting new chapters...
> 
> I think Ed would try to pretend he doesn't care about the students but I believe Ed would be a very efficient teacher. By that I mean that he gets the point across, but probably not in the best way XD. 
> 
> I also have a strong belief that Fred and George (and Lee Jordan, of course) would be the smartest of their class. 
> 
> Anyways, read on!

Edward's class was one of the only things that made Harry stay awake throughout the day. He was very curious as to what Edward would teach.

_I wonder if he's a nice teacher._

In Potions, as Snape handed out papers, Harry's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, spiky black 'D' scrawled in an upper corner.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realiztic idea of what to expect in the examination."

Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.

"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this weeks essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a D."

He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a D? Ha!"

Harry realized that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade he had received; he slid his moonstone essay back into his bag as quickly as possible, feeling that he would rather keep that information private.

Determined not to give Snape an excuse to fail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. His Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and he delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.

"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"

When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"

Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.

"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on..."

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.

"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an O -"

"Hermione," said Ron sharply "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."

"I don't - I didn't mean - well, if you want to tell me -"

"I got a P," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy P."

"But," said Hermione, "doesn't P stand for..."

"Poor, yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than D, isn't it? 'Dreadful'?"

Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about OWL grades.

"So top grade's O for 'Outstanding'," she was saying, 'and then there's A-"

"No, E," George corrected her, "E for 'Exceeds Expectations'. And I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."

They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, "So, after E it's A for 'Acceptable', and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.

"Then you get P for 'Poor'-" Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration - "and D for 'Dreadful'."

"And then T," George reminded him.

"T?" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"

"Troll", said George promptly.

Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking. He imagined trying to conceal from Hermione that he had received T's in all his OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from now on.

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry. "Trelawney -"

"A T if ever I saw one."

"- and Umbridge herself."

"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today" said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

"Yeah, but after Umbridge we have Alchemy."

Fred whistled. "You're in for a lot, mate. Ed's different when he's teaching..." George shook his head. "And to think he's younger than us!"

Hermione said "oh, I wonder what we're going to learn! There wasn't much I could read up on Alchemy, other than the Philosophers stone..."

\---

Harry noticed Hermione had her hand up in the air again, during class. Umbridge noticed, too.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read Chapter Two," said Hermione.

"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says - 'jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Harry knew she was impressed, against her will.

"But I disagree," Hermione continued.

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder. "You disagree?" she repeated.

"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But, I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But -" Hermione began.

"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house."

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

"What for?" said Harry angrily.

"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them - with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age appropriate subjects - would have passed a Ministry inspection -"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Harry had ever heard. Then -

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly, as the bell rung.

Harry was one of the first people out, wanting to get rid of Umbridge as soon as possible. The rest of the class hurried behind him, to Edward's classroom.

\---

Ed clutched his head.

_Damn twins._

They had been infuriatingly annoying, and to top it off they were infuriatingly smart.

He had only taught one class in the morning and it seemed to be enough for him.

But then the door knocked.

"Professor?"

He opened it, and there was Harry, Ron and Hermione looking at him. Behind them was a line of students.

"Oh, yes, yes, come in" he said distractedly, watching them file in.

A small part of him lit up when he saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione come in and sit in the front but that quickly vanished when he saw green-tied students come in, Draco ever so dramatically.

"Sit down, everyone." Edward cleared his throat. He waited until everyone's eyes were on him.

"This is your first Alchemy lesson. You may have seen me around the school last week, I am Professor Elric. " He turned to the blackboard.

"-short-"

"-midget-"

"- _He's_ teaching us Alchemy?-"

"-thought he was a first-year-"

Edward gritted his teeth."Now, does anyone here know what Alchemy is?"

Predictably, Hermione shot up her hand.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione blushed a little, to the formal greeting but she said, "Alchemy is a branch of ancient magic concerned with the power to turn lead into gold."

"No."

"No?" Hermione asked uncertainly. There was a new muttering around the class; after all, if the top student didn't know what Alchemy was, how could they?

"No." clarified Edward. "Alchemy is not a magic, it is closely related to science." He paced around. "Tell me-" he pointed at the students. "You are all wizards or witches, correct?"

Mumbled agreement. Edward continued. "Meaning, you all have magic prowess in your blood."

Malfoy said, in a carrying whisper, "yes, but some are filthier than others."

"Please _do_ shut your mouth, Malfoy." Draco's face coloured, while Harry and Ron exchanged grins. Edward glanced at them, then continued.

"You are born with magic, but anyone can learn Alchemy, including muggles."

"What about the turning lead into gold bit, professor?" asked Ron, somewhat greedily.

Edward sighed. "Yes, we can turn lead into gold. But it's illegal in Amestris, because that would destroy the economy, a simple answer if you think about it. Any more questions?"

This time it was Neville. "P-professor E-E-Elric" he stammered. "Could we, um, have an example? Please?"

Edward shrugged. "Okay, watch closely, now. I'll be taking it slow."

He got out a board and he began drawing circles and triangles on it, along with runes no one knew. "This is usually what one would do first. Make a Transmutation circle, and add the needed runes."

He looked around the classroom, muttering. "Limestone...okay..."

Edward set the chalk down, as Malfoy said loudly. "This is rather boring, don't you think? Crabbe? Goyle?"

Edward ignored him, scooping limestone from the chalkboard. "What is chalk made of?" He held out the powdery substance.

Hermione said promptly, "Limestone, sir."

"Good. Watch. I'm going to put limestone in the centre of the circle." He did so, and raised his hands. "This part is important. Watch carefully." He clapped his hands and set them on the circle, just as lightning shot up from it with a magnificent _crack_.

The class shrinked back, shying away from the sound. But an instant later, the class saw what had happened. Harry leaned closer for a better look.

The powdery limestone was gone, to be replaced by a single stick of chalk. Edward picked up the chalk showing the class, to mild applause.

Seamus Finnigan whistled. "Mighty brilliant, Professor."

"Thank you, Finnigan. Now, onto the lesson-"

But he was cut off yet again, by Malfoy. "Couldn't we simply Transfigure it with out wands?" He asked boredly. Edward gritted his teeth. "You need wands, right? Or else you're powerless."

Everyone nodded. Edward waved a hand to the Transmutation circle. "You don't need wands for this, so this is a method in the face of disaster. Indeed, drawing out the circle takes a lot of time, as you know. Many State Alchemists use gauntlets or even tattoos in order to have their transmutation circles ready at hand."

He wrote on the chalkboard. "As I was _saying_ , I'm going to give you a test."

"What!"

"Sir! We've only been here for one class-"

"That's not fair!"

Edward held up his hand. "Quiet. The test will be in one month." He turned to the board and wrote in large letters. His English handwriting had gotten somewhat better over the week, but it was a bit wobbly. He wrote, _ONE IS ALL, ALL IS ONE._

Edward pointed to the quote. "The test is, all of you must tell me what this means in Alchemy by the end of the month, or else-" he grinned evilly. "I'm kicking you out."

There was another uproar.

"How are we going to do that?"

"Professor-"

He held up his hand again, but that wasn't enough. " _Shut up_!"

Ed stood behind his desk. "You won't be walking into this problem blindfolded. Over the month, I'll teach you the basics of Alchemy, and if you listen and understand-" he pointed to his head. "-then the problem is good as solved."

He went up to the board. "Okay. First things first. Who is a muggle-born, or half-blood?"

Harry and Hermione raised their lands, along with Dean, Seamus, and Parvati. Malfoy hid a sneer behind his hand. "You must be kidding me, they're _proud_ to be half-blood?"

 _Only five people?_ Edward twirled the chalk around his fingers. "And how many of you have heard of the Periodic Table?"

This time, Parvati's hand went down.

"And, how many of you can _name_ elements on the Periodic Table?"

Harry, Dean, and Seamus all put their hands down, looking slightly abashed. Hermione was the only one left.

_Great._

_These dunderheads don't even know what the Table is._

"Thank you, Hermione, you can put your hand down now-"

"Actually, I also wanted to ask you something, Professor."

"Yes?"

"What does the Philosopher's Stone have to do with Alchemy?"

Edward gawked, staring at Hermione with wide golden eyes. Seeming to come back to himself he stuttered, "H-how do you know what that is?"

"It replenishes the owner's health, and it-"

Edward waved a hand, trying to regain his composure. He was acutely aware of all eyes on him. "Hermione, could you please talk to me after class?"

"Oh, okay, Professor."

" _Anyways._ Back on track." He waved his hand to the students. "Take out your notebooks or scrolls or whatever you use to take notes." He grinned, somewhat evilly (the fact did not escape his students). Ed rubbed his hands together.

"Let's get to work, shall we?"

\---

Harry's head felt like it was ringing, surprisingly _not_ from his scar.

Edward had talked on and on, stating the names of stones and powders, expecting them to write everything down. Hermione, however, seemed to have no trouble keeping up.

"-and that's it for today, everyone. The bell's going to ring shortly, pack up your bags."

Even Draco seemed to have deflated somewhat from the constant barrage of knowledge, and there was the looming threat of being kicked out at the end of the month.

Hermione stayed after class. Ron and Harry stayed with her, curious with what Ed was going to say. But before Edward could say anything, Ron butted in with, "Oi, Ed! What do you think you're doing, giving us this much work! Do they work the students this hard back where you're from?"

Ed scratched his head. "That's a good question, I really don't know, Ron. I haven't gone to school since I was ten, I might be a bit out of touch with the Amestrian curriculum-but enough of that." He leaned forward, head leaning on his hands.

"Hermione, do you know what a Philosopher's Stone is?"

"Y-yes, Professor. We all know, that is, Ron and Harry know what the Stone is, too."

Edward regarded them with his strange gold eyes. "Do you know what the Stone does?"

Harry answered, "It heals and prolongs the owner's life, along with turning lead into gold, correct?"

Ed thought, _maybe because they don't know Alchemy, that the Stone only prolongs the owner's life instead of ignoring the Equivalent Exchange...turning lead into gold, that's what any alchemist can do..._

"So" said Edward, "Do you _have_ the Stone?"

"No, sir. Voldemort tried to take it back when we were first-years, but we stopped him." There was a suggestible note of pride in Ron's voice. Harry said, "Last I remember, Dumbledore had it destroyed."

Ed gawked. True, true, having a Philosopher's Stone destroyed was probably the safest move, but just _thinking_ about another Philosopher's Stone on top of the Homunculi stressed him out. He picked up his cloak and papers. "Oh, alright. I was just wondering." He shooed them out the door, then he locked it behind him.

_Seems like I'm paying you a visit, Dumbledore._

_\---_

"Ed seemed pretty high-strung when we asked about the stone..."

"Yeah, what d'you reckon, Hermione?"

"Well" began Hermione cautiously, "Ed seemed really frustrated when we told him it was destroyed, what if he wanted to get his hands on the stone?"

"Ed's four years too late, then..."

"Yeah, but what if he-" Harry glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. "-what if he's been in contact with Voldemort?"

Silence.

"...I doubt it" Hermione said hesitantly. "He's been with us for what, half the summer? He only sent two letters out, right, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. One to his brother and one to his boss or something. But the thing is, he had written everything in Amestrian, so I couldn't read it."

"What if it was a secret code?"

"I don't know. I just hope Ed is on our side, because-" Harry grinned. "-He'd blow his top if he heard this, but, well, even though he's a midget, he's pretty strong."

\--

Edward bristled while walking down the hall, feeling a sort of foreboding.

_I feel like someone just called me small._

But anyways, he arrived at Dumbledore's office, or where it was supposed to be. There was a large stone gargoyle at the entrance.

As Ed neared the gargoyle it _spoke._ "Password" it said, none too kindly. Edward jumped back, eyes narrowed and nerves thoroughly shot. "I'm here to see the Headmaster" Ed said slowly, fearing he might faint then and there.

"Password."

"I don't have one."

"No password, no entry."

"I need to see Dumbledore!"

"Password."

Ed could feel himself getting angrier, it felt like steam was about to pour out of his ears. He pointed a threatening finger at the gargoyle. "Look, you _better_ show me the Headmaster, or else I'm going to bash your-"

The gargoyle swung to the side, to show Albus Dumbledore in front of him. "Ah" he said pleasantly. "Professor Elric. I was about to take a nice stroll, but you appear rather distressed."

"Wha-I'm not distressed!" Ed crossed his arms. "I need to talk to you." he looked around, the empty halls. "In private."

"But of course, Edward."

He led Ed back into his office. Edward tried to ignore the strange silver instruments lining the shelves.

_I want to see what they do._

_Back on topic, Philosopher's Stone._

Ed cleared his throat. "Dumbledore, Harry said there was a Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts four years ago. He said you had it destroyed."

Dumbledore regarded Edward with twinkling eyes, eyes that hid far too many secrets for Edward's taste. "Indeed."

Ed swallowed. "Tell me, Dumbledore, do you know how to create a Philosopher's Stone?"

"No, I do not, Edward. I am painfully limited in the art of Alchemy."

"Souls, Dumbledore."

"Pardon me?"

" _Souls._ Human souls. Hundreds, thousands, possibly millions of people." Ed spread his hands. "Their souls live in the Stone, powering it."

Dumbledore was quiet.

"You didn't know this."

"Someone warned me of it, Edward, a rather long time ago."

"Who?"

\---

_Ninety years ago, Hogwarts Castle._

"Hohenheim!"

Hohenheim looked up from his mob of papers surrounding his desk. "Albus! I'm glad to see that you've returned, and in one piece."

Albus chuckled, setting his traveling bag on top of the desk. "Yes, Paris was much nicer than Egypt. I didn't get hexed as soon as I stepped foot in a shop, for one."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes, yes I did. I got to spend some time at Beauxbatons, it was rather nice, to be able to see how French wizards and witches were being taught-"

"You left Hogwarts for three months" Hohenheim said dryly, "for what you said was a teaching break in Paris. However, instead of marvelling the Eiffel Tower, you instead decided to go to another Wizarding school. Tell me, how does it feel to be obsessed with teaching, Albus?"

"Oh, do shut up. I didn't only go to Paris for Beauxbatons, I actually quite enjoyed myself with the food. Very different from ours."

"I'm sure."

"Ah, I also met another wizard!" Albus frowned. "Except he said he was an alchemist, too."

The sound of Hohenheim's pen _scritch, scratch_ on the paper came to a halt. "An alchemist?" Hohenheim asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, his name is Nicholas Flamel."

"Hm, I haven't heard of the lad before."

Albus laughed again. "He's hardly a lad, he's three hundred years old."

Hohenheim tilted his head. "Oh?"

"Yes, you see, Heim-" Albus' eyes lit up. "He has what he calls a Philosopher's Stone."

Albus did not see the way Hohenheim's eyes tightened, or the way he clenched his fist. "Really? What does it look like?"

"It's small, really, the size of a large pebble. Red, looks a bit like a ruby."

Hohenheim smiled, though his eyes were cast away. "Mmm." He said. "Tell me, Albus, do you think highly of this Philosopher's Stone?"

Albus tilted his head. "Well, of course. It is a breakthrough in Alchemy! Come on, Hohenheim. You're the Alchemy Professor, for heaven's sake. I thought you'd be fascinated with it."

"Albus" began Hohenheim. "Do you know what the Philosopher's Stone is made of?"

"Unfortunately, no" Albus said ruefully. "I'm not one for Alchemy. You know that, Heim."

"What if I told you a human needed to be sacrificed for the Stone?"

Albus thought, taking it as a rhetorical question. "If a human needed to be sacrificed...I'd say, it wouldn't be worth it as a whole, even though the Stone could help others." His hand took a small locket out, a plain metal one. Even though he didn't open it, Hohenheim knew what was inside; a small picture of Albus' dead sister.

But after a moment, Albus tucked the locket away. "It wouldn't be worth it, Heim. What're you thinking?"

But at the moment Hohenheim smiled. He reached for another sheet of paper to mark. "Oh, nothing, Albus, nothing at all."

\---

_Present time_

"Not anyone you need to worry about, Edward" Dumbledore said serenely. "But as I have said before, it's destroyed. I made sure of it."

Ed paced the room, muttering furiously in Amestrian.

"Edward."

"What?" Ed said irritably, nerves visibly frayed. He had thought this teaching job was hard enough, along with the order of the Phoenix and the Umbridge cow, but now there was a Philosopher's Stone? True enough, Dumbledore had said it was destroyed, but what was the Stone doing here in the first place-

"You seem especially perplexed by the Philosopher's Stone. This leads me to wonder, have you had any sort of affiliation with a Philosopher's Stone before?" Even though his voice was light, it reminded Ed of Mustang, when the Colonel was trying to sway a higher-up.

It was no use lying, Dumbledore seemed to know everything. Ed fiddled with his gloves. "Yes, sir" he said truthfully, staring Dumbledore in his twinking eyes, "and I have seen the damage it inflicts."

"Ah." That was all Dumbledore said. "Well, you have nothing to worry about, Edward. I can assure you that."

There really was nothing more Edward could contribute, and so the Alchemy Professor left the office in a huff, closing the door behind him. He did not see the way Dumbledore's eyes tightened, nor did Edward see Dumbledore lean down and open up a drawer. Albus took out a small framed picture, smaller than his hand.

The photograph probably had colour at some point, but it had leached out to be replaced by a dirty yellow. However, the two subjects of the photo were still visible, smiling and waving. Both were wearing fitted suits but one had on a sweeping trench coat over and was wearing half-rimmed glasses, a melancholic smile on his face.

The other man was much more vibrant, a hand swung over the blond's shoulder, the other hand in the air. Dumbledore's hair was still auburn in the photograph, albeit a bit faded but with a large smile on his face.

Dumbledore stared at the picture, like he had countless times before. Ed had not been pleased when he was asked about his father's identity before, and Dumbledore suspected it had stayed that way.

Of course, if Ed was descended from Hohenheim he was probably a grandson, wasn't he? It had been ninety years ago when Dumbledore had first met Hohenheim and the man already looked middle-aged. But Hohenheim had never given the slightest hint of wanting children, similar to Dumbledore.

\---

_Ninety years ago, Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks_

Albus refilled Hohenheim's glass with berry-spiced gin. "Have some more, Heim. You're looking rather down." Albus downed his own cup of juniper-brandy. "Cheer up, Hohenheim, it's almost Christmastime!"

Hohenheim picked up his glass but did not drink from it, instead marvelling the red colour of his gin. "Christmas" he mused slowly. "I'm still getting used to the idea of this holiday of giving. After all, Amestris doesn't have Christmas."

Albus filled up his own glass again. "I'm telling you, Amestris folk are mad!" He shook his had. "No Christmas, no holidays _ever_?"

"Other than the annual Fuhrer's celebration, no, no holidays" Hohenheim said mildly.

Albus said "Amestris must be the only place on Earth like that!"

Hohenheim set his full glass down. "Yes, I think it is" he said quietly. Albus regarded his friend. "Say, Heim" he said casually, putting his empty glass on the table with a _clink_ , "Why didn't you go back to Amestris for the break?" He chuckled. "Galatea left for IIkley yesterday, and Boris is leaving tomorrow."

"I could ask the same of you, Albus. Are you, a young wizard, really so dedicated to teaching that you would stay at Hogwarts?"

Albus tilted his head back, waving a hand to call for more brandy. "I'm not young" Albus said self-deprecatingly. "A little bit old, in fact."

Hohenheim hummed, hiding a sad smile behind his hand. He could not say the same thing for himself, he was more than a _little_ old by this time. Surely, four hundred years was enough to be called old?

But Albus forged on. "I've been wondering for quite some time now, Heim" he said, surprisingly sober. "You're not bad-looking-" Albus coughed, a grin spreading. "-well, you're not exactly _handsome_ , either-"

"Are you complementing me or insulting me?" Hohenheim asked amiably.

"Both. Maybe. I don't know. But-" Albus' grin lessened by a bit. "You're not ugly, you've got a good head on your shoulders, you're a Professor, and I'll say, I think anyone would think a Professor is a good job, but you still haven't gotten yourself a girl! Never even dated before, have you?"

Hohenheim sipped a little bit of his gin, to hide his surprise. Albus' conversation had not gone the way he had thought. "How'd you know?"

"It was obvious, Hohenheim. Brushing off girls with such casualty-only you, Heim. Only you."

"What? When have I ever brushed off a girl?" Hohenheim asked, with genuine curiosity.

Albus roared, tipping his head back. "You really don't know?" He poured yet another glass, a few drops spilling onto the wooden table. "Tell me, Heim, you forgot that Ministry girl? Rather pretty-short hair, nice glasses, flattering robes-you really don't remember?"

Hohenheim cocked his head thoughtfully. "Wasn't she the Minister's assistant? We talked a little, when Crickerley was busy with Armando-"

"You blasted idiot!" Albus interrupted Hohenheim. "Honestly, you're so clueless! She was chatting you up, mate, and she hinted that she wanted to go out with you, ugh! Hopeless, really." Albus drained his glass. "Well, if you stay a bachelor forever, I won't be alone then." His voice held more than a tinge of regret.

"What makes you think you'll never marry a woman, Albus?" Hohenheim asked kindly. Albus stared into his empty glass, his distorted reflection looking back at him.

"My mother is dead. My sister Ariana is dead, she died far too young, as you know. If my father's not dead then he's wasting away in Azkaban, and I haven't spoken to my brother in fifteen years." He clutched his hands together. "It's not right, don't you think? No, no, it's not right at all. I can't burden a lovely lady with that."

A sad silence streatched between them. Hohenheim waved a hand. "Excuse me, two soju rice wines, please" he said to a passing waiter.

Albus perked up, if only the slightest bit. "Going a bit exotic?" Hohenheim smiled. "You've never had soju before, Albus? It's quite nice, but a bit on the pricy side. The flavour's unique, different from England's beer and whisky."

"Thinking of getting me drunker than I already am?"

\---

_Present time_

Dumbledore's sad thoughts were interrupted, by a strange _tap-tap-tap_ from his window. Albus turned, seeing one of the school owls tapping at the window. Dumbledore opened the window and the slim barn owl hopped in, sticking out its leg.

After the owl flew away, Dumbledore looked at the envelope he'd gotten. There was an unfamiliar crest on it, stamped in red, almost blood-like.

He broke the wax, pulling out a letter from inside.

The handwriting was rather shaky, like a beginner.

_To Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,_

_Next time, please be so polite as to send a tamer owl. It took one master sergeant, one warrant officer, three second lieutenants and one first lieutenant to capture the owl after it flew from my office and down the corridors._

_I have, in my busy state of mind, forgotten to tell you something, regrettably, of course._

_You were very kind when you allowed Major Edward Elric to teach at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, without knowing the circumstances that surround him._

_Elric himself will no doubt be furious when he finds out I have told you, and therefore I ask that you do not blatantly tell him you know._

_If you believed that Major Elric has served in the Ishvalan war, I deeply apologize for falsely hailing him as a war veteran. No, Major Elric has not served in a war before, but I am not lying when I say Major Elric is one of the most esteemed alchemists in Amestris, however much it irks me to write it._

_Let me get to the point. I doubt Major Elric has told you, but it will be obvious enough when you know. Due to reasons that are not mine to tell, Major Elric has been relieved of his right arm and left leg. I think a man as sharp as you would have noticed the quiet clicks in his arm and the strange note in his steps._

_He did not lose his limbs in any foolhardy accident. The reason may or may not be revealed to you in due time, but Edward will not obey you, no matter how much pull you have._

_I hope this knowledge was helpful to you in some way, for reasons that are not relevant at the moment._

_Sincerely,_

_Colonel Roy Mustang_

Dumbledore set the letter down. Mustang was rather smooth with words. Indeed, he could probably rival Lucius Malfoy.

Colonel Mustang was right; Albus _had_ noticed the strange clues alluding to Edward's limbs but had not cared to question him. The fact that Edward was lacking half his limbs was questionable enough, but Mustang had stated Edward had never fought in the war, so how exactly did a boy lose two limbs?

Another owl flew through the open window, with less grace than the first. It was a great grey owl, with feathers that seemed they'd wilt away any second, with a rather large belly. The owl half flew, half fell onto Dumbledore's desk before skidding and falling onto the floor with an audible _thump_.

Dumbledore recognized this owl well enough, it was Errol, the Weasley's family owl. The poor bird was heaving and gasping: Dumbledore gave it some water and biscuits from Fawkes' cage.

While Errol was resting, Dumbledore took off the letter around its leg. It was from Arthur Weasley. It was a bit lengthier than Colonel Mustang's letter, and it was neater.

_Dear Albus,_

_I am sure that Edward, Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, and Ginny have arrived safely at Hogwarts (Molly would have my head if they didn't). It has been a week, and I am firm in my decision I should tell you something about your new Alchemy Professor, Edward Elric._

_To put it frank, Molly and I are rather concerned for him. A child prodigy, to be a professor! I admit, I was a bit suspicious of what the Amestrian government thought they were doing, but now I have even more questions._

_Edward acts like a normal, if a bit petulant, fifteen-year-old boy. But one does not have so much experience in their fears at the age of fifteen._

_Something happened, in August. As you know, Albus, we have been residing at Grimmauld for a while, and we had not cleaned out the house entirely. There was a boggart in the writing desk. Molly thought she could deal with it by herself, but, as fear sometimes overcomes us all, she could not._

_Edward walked in on her facing off agains the boggart, and Harry found him soon after, Lupin managing to vanish the creature. But not before we saw Edward's boggart._

_There was blood everywhere; limbs and gore, like those horrible muggle movies. But that wasn't all, there were creatures and..._

Dumbledore continued, reading the grisly description Mr. Weasley had enclosed in the letter. The handwriting here was more hesitant, somewhat leaner than the start, as if the writer wanted to get it over with.

With each new detail to Ed's boggart, Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and his twinkled lost its shine in his eyes. He patted Fawkes, the phoenix chirping. "Hush, old friend" Dumbledore soothed his companion, then read on.

_...It was horrifying. We worry for Ed, Dumbledore. He didn't want to talk about the boggart the next day. I think the lad's too young to face something so terrible._

_I would just like for you to know._

_Burn this letter after you're done reading it; Ministry eyes._

_-Arthur W._

Dumbledore nodded to himself. He gave the paper to Fawkes, who sneezed; sparks quickly engulfed the parchment, until it was no more than ashes.

He looked out the window, to the open sky. He had opened the Alchemy class because he thought it would be better to have another card in the deck, if Voldemort were to attack. But it seemed the Alchemy Professor might need as much protection as the students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely think Albus and Hohenheim would have been good friends. Both quiet and sad. 
> 
> The next chapter will be pretty funny (I think). This chapter was more to get used to Ed's personality. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, please comment below!


	12. Educational Decree Number Twenty-One: Dress Code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than expected, I have shit wifi. I don't know if it's because of online class or whatever but my connection seems especially bad during quarantine. Like, I usually lag and log out of a zoom meeting at least twice per class.
> 
> There have been a few...events, recently, that cause me to ask my follows to hope for your good health. Please be safe! 
> 
> As you might have seen on this chapter's title, we are targeting Ed's poor wardrobe today. I still wonder why the Fuhrer didn't force Elric to wear a uniform. Of course, I can totally imagine Ed saying "my way or the HIGHWAYYY" or Hiromu Arakwa just drew Ed like that for the main character trope.
> 
> So, you know. 
> 
> Read on!

"Well, it's a start, eh?," said Ron miserably, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around. Harry nodded noncommittally; his mice had not completely vanished either, but had little wriggling paws.

Harry bit back a laugh when he imagined what Ed would think of the paws.

Professor McGonagall had been no-nonsense with Umbridge as soon as she had stepped inside the classroom, to Harry and Ron's delight. Professor McGonagall had pretended that Umbridge was not there, and it seemed Umbridge's incessant note-taking hadn't bothered her one bit.

As they filed out of the classroom, Harry saw Professor Umbridge approach Professor McGonagall's desk; he nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione in turn, and the three of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge asked.

"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.

Professor Umbridge made a note.

"Very well," she said, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I can hardly wait," said Professor McGonagall, in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. "Hurry up, you three," she added, sweeping Harry, Ron and Hermione before her.

Harry could not help giving her a faint smile and could have sworn he received one in return.

\---

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Harry heard Professor Umbridge ask Professor Grubbly-Plank, as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs.

"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."

Harry exchanged uneasy looks with Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry.

"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Harry could still hear her quite clearly. "I wonder - the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter - can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

Harry saw Malfoy look up eagerly and watch Umbridge and Grubbly-Plank closely.

"Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"

"Yes, please do," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.

—-

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. Harry did not like the emphasis she put on 'you' and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

Goyle gave a stupid grin. Malfoy hastened to answer the question.

"That was me," he said. "I was slashed by a Hippogriff."

"A Hippogriff?" said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.

"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," said Harry angrily.

Both Ron and Hermione groaned. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.

"Another nights detention, I think," she said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank.

\---

Harry had thought he would have had enough of Professor Umbridge for the morning, but it was not enough.

"I hate her" Harry said vehemently, as the fifth-years stomped back into the castle for their next class. "Yeah, mate" Ron agreed, while Hermione nodded her head.

"What do we have next?"

"Alchemy."

"I think Alchemy seems a bit hard, don't you think-" Harry's voice cut off as he stared, his stomach churning.

Professor Umbridge was standing outside of Ed's door, clipboard in hand and toady smile on her face.

" _Not again_ " Harry whispered furiously, as they lined up behind Umbridge. "Why can't she go to another class?"

"Right, mate" Ron said grimly, "Draco and Umbridge in one class."

\---

Edward stared at the crumpled note that was on his desk.

It read:

_Dear Mr. Edward Elric,_

_A reminder that the High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge will visit your_ _Fifth-Year Gryffindor/Slytherin Alchemy lesson_ _before lunch._

_Good day,_

_Dolores Jane Umbridge_

Ed cursed, snatching the paper from his desk and crumpling it until it was no more than a small ball.

_Dammit, I'm here on Fuhrer orders-_

_Got to have that lady in my class-_

Edward opened the door, displeased to see Dolores Umbridge was on the other side. "Professor Umbridge" Ed greeted her, somewhat mocking.

Umbridge smiled, that horrible smug little thing. "Yes, good to meet you, Professor Elric. I don't think we've met before." Before Dolores could put out her right hand, Ed put out his own left hand. "Pleasure." They shook, once, and Ed snatched his hand away. He cleared his throat. "Come in." He poked his head out further and saw the rest of the Gryffindors and Slytherins lined up.

Edward watched as the students filed into his class. He tried to ignore how Umbridge was staring at him with her glassy eyes and instead turned his back to her, walking to the front of the class. He scuffed his black boots on the wooden floor imperceptibly, trying to right himself.

Ed dove right into talking. "Take out your notes, everyone. We'll be discussing the concept of Alchemy this class." He picked up the chalk, writing on the board _EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE,_ under _ONE IS ALL, ALL IS ONE._

"I think some of you can already guess what the Equivalent Exchange is, it is-"

" _Hem, hem."_

Ed stole a quick glance at Umbridge but hurried on with his lesson. "-It is one of the most important laws concerning Alchemy. _Write this down_." He snapped his fingers at the class, some, like Ron, who were dozing off. "Don't blame me when you can't find information when you need it. Anyways-" he pointed a finger at the board. "The Equivalent Exchange is something I expect all of you to memorize. It's simple enough." He turned back to the board, writing, _The Equivalent Exchange: energy cannot be destroyed or created, only transmuted or replaced with something of equivalent wort-_

" _Hem, hem_."

Edward gritted his teeth, ending the sentence he was writing with a large chalk smudge on the board. He glanced at Umbridge, who was staring at him again, _again,_ with those _stupid, stupid_ eyes. Ed opted to ignore her once again. He tried to ignore the annoyingly loud sound of Umbridge's quill scratching across her book.

"As you probably remember yesterday, the chalk that I transmuted was not from thin air; I had to gather limestone first." Ed turned the face the class, crossing his hands over his black jacket. "I had the _pleasure_ of watching one of your Transfigurations lessons, and Alchemy is vastly different, as in-"

" _Hem, hem_."

Edward took in a breath, then let it out slowly, his jaw set. He refused to look at Umbridge. "- _As in_ , in Alchemy you cannot directly vanish an object. Tear the material? Yes, you can do that. Crush the object? Yes, you can do that too. But you cannot create from nothing, nor can you destroy. _That_ is the Law of Equivalent Exchange, write this down-"

" _Hem, hem_."

Edward had enough, he could not stand the pallid grin she was wearing. Edward gnashed his teeth. "Do you want something, _Dolores_?" He asked in a simpering tone similar to hers.

But Umbridge only smiled. "Oh, I just want to comment on something, Edward-sorry, _Professor Elric_ " she said smugly. She took another note on her clipboard. "I just wanted to comment on, ah, what an _illuminating_ wardrobe you have."

Ed looked down at his black combat boots and jeans, then at his white shirt underneath his leather jacket. He held up his gloves. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He demanded hotly, noting how all student's eyes were on him. Draco sniggered audibly.

"I don't know what sort of dress code you follow back in _Amestris"_ Umbridge's lip curled. "But in Hogwarts we make sure to wear _business_ clothing and robes, not _punk_ -wear."

Edward sneered. "Lady, if _my_ is punk-wear, than I dare say your cardigan is fit for the pigs."

The class gasped, while Ron and Harry grinned, mouthing 'nice one' to Edward. Draco made a sort of scandalized snort. Umbridge's face was frozen, but just as quickly she sat down, writing furiously with a somewhat malicious air around her.

Ed turned away. "Right, now after _that's_ dealt with, I don't think any of _you_ have any problems with my _outfit_?" His tone was dangerously calm. The class did not say anything. Draco looked like he wanted to comment but one look from Edward made him shut up.

"Good. Pack up your belongings. We'll pick up from where we left off tomorrow."

Umbridge was one of the first people out the door after a backward glance, Draco and his cronies following her in suit. Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed behind.

"Brilliant, Ed!" Ron crowed. But Hermione wasn't so sure. "Ed, I think Umbridge might try to get back at you!" Ed scoffed. "I'd like to see her try."

Harry added, "you aren't the only professor that's been offing Umbridge, you should've seen her face when McGonagall asked her if she needed a cough drop."

Edward grinned. "I can't let McGonagall one-up me like that."

The trio left the room and went upstairs. "Do you want to do the Charms homework first?" Ron asked.

"Well, first, I wanted to tell you and Harry something-"

Harry cut Hermione off, setting his bags down. "Tell me later, Hermione, I have detention with Umbridge" he said gloomily. Ron groaned. "Mate, don't you think you've had it rough? You've seen Umbridge countless times today. And you're okay with letting her cut open your hand?!"

Harry shrugged. "She's evil, what do you expect?"

—-

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge's office that night, his hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf he had wrapped around it. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical.

"Here," she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice. "No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defense from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that?" said Ron, yawning. "It's too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today..." she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

"Well - learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione.

Harry and Ron goggled at her.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Ron.

"Don't be silly, of course there is," said Hermione, and Harry saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervour that SPEW usually inspired in her. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year -"

"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose -"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books"' said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..." Harry began.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?" said Harry, frowning at her.

Hermione heaved a very deep sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry."

There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.  
"About me what?" said Harry.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like SPEW to Harrys consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated. He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, "That's an idea." "What's an idea?" said Harry.

"You," said Ron. "Teaching us to do it."

"But..."

Harry was grinning now, sure the pair of them were pulling his leg.

"But I'm not a teacher, I can't - why can't Ed teach you?" Harry said, even though he knew it was a losing battle.

"Ed's an expert in Alchemy, Harry, I doubt he knows anything about spells and hexes. Besides, Harry, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, now grinning more broadly than ever. "No I'm not, you've beaten me in every test -"

"Actually, I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You beat me in our third year - the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Think what you've done!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry.

"Let's think," he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh... first year - you saved the Sorcerer's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck," said Harry, "it wasn't skill."

"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I -"

"Third year," said Ron, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred Dementors at once -"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't -"

"Last year," Ron said, almost shouting now, "you fought off You-Know-Who again-"

"Listen to me!" said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck - I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help -"

Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Harry felt his temper rise; he wasn't even sure why he was feeling so angry.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I?" he said heatedly. "I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because - because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right - but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing - STOP LAUGHING!"

The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. He became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn't remember standing up. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished.

"You don't know what it's like! You - neither of you - you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own - your own brain or guts or whatever - like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die- they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that - and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me -"

"We weren't saying anything like that, mate," said Ron, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't - you've got the wrong end of the -"

He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.

Harry continued, ranting. At this point he wasn't aware of half of the words stomping out of his mouth. "No. NO. You don't see it, you'll never see it. That _look_." He turned away, hand desperately going through his hair. "Both of you. That look people have in their eyes when they're going to kill you, or when they're going to be killed-you never saw Diggory's body-" he inhaled a deep breath.

" _Yeah,_ Ron, Hermione-" Harry's voice turned twisted, and he would regret it later. "You want a sad hero? Well then-" he spread his hands wide open. "- _I suggest you fetch Edward Elric_."

There was a stunned silence. While Ron's face had been getting redder and his jaw began twitching, the blood leached out of Hermione's face. Sitting so close by the fireplace gave her the faint resemblance of a ghost.

Ron was the first to speak. "Harry, I know you've been through a lot-"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

Ron held up his hands. "Woah, don't get up in my face! I'm just saying-" and his eyes stared at Harry's. "-this isn't about just _you_. It's about everyone. And-" he crossed his arms. "It wasn't fair to Ed, what you said about him."

Harry knew that. "I know."

"Harry," Hermione said timidly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... we need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed Harry. Still breathing hard, he sank back into his chair, becoming aware as he did so that his hand was throbbing horribly again. He wished he had not smashed the bowl of Murtlap essence.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione quietly. "Please?"

Harry could not think of anything to say. He was feeling ashamed of his outburst already. He nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to. Hermione stood up.

"Well, I'm off to bed," she said, in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. "Erm... night."

Ron had gotten to his feet, too.

"Coming?" he said awkwardly to Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left.

"Reparo," Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl.

He was suddenly so tired he was tempted to sink back into his armchair and sleep there, but instead he forced himself to his feet and followed Ron upstairs. His restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors and he awoke next day with his scar prickling again.

—-

Edward got up, like usual. He pulled on his white gloves and shirt, tucking it in. Then, he threw his leather jacket over, also like usual. Ed was just about to lace up his boots when he spotted a profusely large poster tacked up on his notice board. It hadn't been there the night before.

With each new sentence he read on the poster Ed's scowl deepened.

The poster read:

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR AT HOGWARTS_

_All teachers must wear business clothing and robes._

_This consists of wizard or witch robes and/or dresses and/or suits._

_Failure to comply by this dress code will result in probation and/or expulsion._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-One._

_Signed, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor_

Edward felt like his head would explode. Not only did he have to teach, he had to follow a _dress_ code?

_Failure to comply will result in probation or expulsion._

Ed considered the fact.

_I don't want the Fuhrer breathing down my back._

_But what do I wear?_

The somewhat formal outfit he'd worn at Harry's hearing could not do, as the vest he'd worn was Ron's.

In fact, the only thing close to formal or business in his suitcase was his Amestris Military uniform. It was rich blue, with white and yellow designs, just as official as the first day he'd been given it.

Ed looked at it in disgust.

_I haven't worn this since..a long time._

_Guess this is the only thing I can wear, anyways._

He thought of Professors Snape and McGonagall. The two were iconic in their outfits, McGonagall preferred dark greens while Snape wore black cloaks year-round. He was pretty sure he was the only professor who would be affected by this outfit change, just as Umbridge had planned it.

To Edward's dismay he still fit perfectly in the Military uniform.

_What? I haven't grown one bit?_

_No, no, that can't be right._

_They must have made it too big in the first place._

Edward straightened his sleeve cuffs, and he tied up his military-issued combats. He made sure to straighten the antennae on his head.

 _Ugh_.

Ed took his pocket watch out from his old jacket's pocket, hooking it to the belt of his blue military uniform.

He looked in the mirror. He looked, well, stricter. And sadder.

_A true dog of the military._

He stormed out of the room, boots clicking.

The dog in the painting barked at him. Edward sped past it. "Not now, Densuke."

Ed received a few curious and blatantly scared stares from the students but he didn't stop to care, instead he rushed down the stairs, buttoning the front of his military coat.

_Cursed buttons._

—-

"Your hand okay, mate?"

Harry glanced at his hand, after Ron asked. The words had not faded, but were etched in, presumably for a long time. "Yeah, it's fine."

"Hermione, did you do the homework?"

But Hermione was not paying attention; she stared with a gaping mouth at the entrance of the Great Hall. Soon it was obvious why she and numerous other people were.

Edward stormed in, and it just occurred to Harry what it really meant to be in the military.

Gone was Edward's rocker leather jacket and black jeans, to be replaced by a crisp blue uniform. It was unlike the green army camouflage uniforms Harry had seen in books; it looked more impressive and there were golden details in the jacket and trousers that made it vastly different from the British Army.

The twins whistled appreciatively. "Nice suit, Ed" Fred said, grinning. "Shut up" Edward snapped, snatching a roll off the table. He ignored the other students as he ate. "I woke up, and on the notice board there was a poster." Ed grabbed another roll. "Said something about professors wearing robes and stuff, blah, blah, failure to do so will be probation. "

"So you're stuck wearing your...suit?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "No, it's more of a uniform. Members of the military are supposed to wear it at all times." He pointed to a badge on his shoulder. It was a dark blue with four yellow stars, and a single yellow star in the middle. "That's a major rank" he explained, stuffing his face with food. "This is the only outfit close to business I have, so-" Edward tugged on his sleeves. "Maybe I can annoy Umbridge enough she'll take out the Educational Decree."

"That's the spirit, Ed" Fred and George said cheerily.

Harry stood up, as did Ron and Hermione. "We've got class." Edward followed the group to the exit of the Great Hall, where they predictably ran into Umbridge, again.

"No running in the hallways" Umbridge simpered, looking at Harry. "You don't want another detention, now..." but her words were cut off when she lay eyes on Edward. The bright blue colour of his uniform seemed to offend her even more than it did Ed.

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-One, am I right?" Ed quipped. It took Umbridge a moment to compose herself.

"Professor Elric! You are wearing a _military uniform_!" She said, just shy of shrieking. Edward shrugged. "You wanted formal, you got formal. Why're you so up in a twist?" He said in a mocking voice. Umbridge straightened herself up.

_Ha!_

_I'm taller than you!_

Other than Granny Rockbell, there were few people who were shorter than Ed (that weren't children). It gave Ed a sort of malicious power to know he was taller than Dolores Umbridge, even if only by a little bit.

"Mister _Elric_ " Umbridge said indignantly. "I, nor does the Minister of Magic condone _military_ inside Hogwarts! It is a _school_!"

Edward stood his ground. "Professor, if I'd known you be this-" his lip curled. " _Picky_ , I wouldn't have bothered."

Harry and Ron glanced from Ed to Umbridge, grinning from ear to ear. Ed was probably the only person (that wasn't an adult) that could talk to Umbridge and get away with it without having his hand sliced open.

Dolores Umbridge was slowly getting redder and more flushed, and it paired quite hilariously with her pink outfit and offensively pink cardigan. Without another word, she strode off hurriedly, heels clacking.

Edward glanced to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Well?" He demanded. "Don't you have class?"

Harry chuckled. "We sure do. That was a good one, Ed. We really needed that."

Just before they left, Ed stuck out his tongue at Dolores Jane Umbridge.

—-

Edward tugged the collar of his uniform. He hated how his uniform seemed to fit him so perfectly, like it was _fine_ being a military dog. His uniform was not itchy nor was it flimsy; it was a very fine uniform indeed.

All the more reason to hate it.

"What did we talk about last class?" Ed surveyed the class, expecting only Hermione's hand to shoot up. Surprisingly, Neville's shaky hand rose up too. Edward pointed to Neville. "Neville, right?"

"Neville Longbottom, sir. Last class we learned about the Equivalent Exchange."

"Good. Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, we learned about the Equivalent Exchange yesterday. Today we will branch out a bit more, learning about the process of Alchemy." Edward picked up his chalk again.

But as he wrote down a few key components on the chalkboard he could hear giggling.

Edward spun back around, a sentence half-finished on the backboard. Draco and his gang, including Pansy Parkinson, had made no move to hide their laughter.

And they seemed to be laughing at _Edward._

Ed set the chalk down, feeling a headache blooming between his eyes. "Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Malfoy?" Edward asked stiffly, crossing his arms. The blue material rustled slightly, and Ed scuffed his heels on the ground.

"Professor" Draco began snidely, "I didn't know it was Halloween already." Then he was laughing again.

_Oh._

_They're laughing at my uniform._

_What the hell is Halloween?_

Edward uncrossed his arms. "You seem to underestimate the importance of..." his lips twisted. "This _uniform_."

Draco whispered to his friends loudly, "what's it the uniform of? The Circus? Maybe it's some cult-"

"It would do you well not to call the Amestrian Military a cult, Malfoy" Ed said dryly. Draco's laughter stopped, to be replaced by suspicion. His eyes raked over the badges sewn on the sleeves and the stars and intricate designs.

"..You're trying to scare us" Draco said finally.

Edward walked around. "I wish I was." He spread his hands, showing off the silver State Alchemist pocketwatch. "Major Edward Elric, State Alchemist. Been in the military for three years." But before anyone could comment on it Edward changed the subject. "Right" Ed said briskly. "Back on track."

"- _three years_?-"

"-But he said he's fifteen, right?-"

"-that can't be right-"

"-crazy-"

"Is there anything _wrong with my age?"_ He demanded. He sneered at the silence that followed. "I thought so."

Edward did not see how Neville stared with wide eyes at him, looking intently at his sleeves and badges.

Edward tapped the board. "It's another week until the end of September, it would do you people well to listen to me. You don't want to fail the test, after all." Ed went through a few more of the basics, on reconstruction and deconstruction. He made sure to hint heavily on the quote, _one is all, all is one._

_If these people don't get it, they'll never learn Alchemy._

He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. They had done almost nothing in all of Ed's classes.

_I seriously doubt they'll pass._

When the bell rung, the students packed up their bags as usual.

To Edward's surprise, Neville went up to the teacher's desk. He was shaking, stumbling a little as he neared Edward. Ed noticed, and he waved away Harry and Ron who were going to talk to him.

When the last student had left the room Edward spoke to Neville. "Do you have any questions?" He asked, not unkindly. "You've been very attentive throughout all my classes."

Neville stood a little straighter, reddening slightly. "o-oh, thanks. But-" his face took on a scarily determined look. "No, I actually w-wanted to ask you something...about the army. I-in Amestris." He stumbled over the last word. Edward was surprised, he thought no one would be interested.

"Well, spit it out, Neville.:

This was a very hard thing for Neville to do. He swallowed, trying to work up his nerve. "Have you fought in a war before, Mister Elric?" He asked hesitantly.

Edward's hand stilled. He thought of all the State Alchemists sent to kill innocent Ishvalans. He thought of the corrupt Fuhrer. "I've fought in part of one" Ed admitted softly.

But Neville didn't wait for the answer. "Were people tortured?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ed's heart felt like it had crawled to his throat. He swallowed forcefully, images flashing through his mind. He remembered that night, when he visited First Lieutenant Hawkeye. He had wanted knowledge of the past, of the Ishvalan war. And she had given it to him, every last detail.

Edward remembered what she had told him, of Ishvalans being used for experiments and the screams that resounded, day and night. He looked Neville in the eye. "Yes, yes. Many were tortured and pained. It was a war."

"Were any of them healed? Mentally or physically?" Contrary to Neville's earlier stammers, this sentence was plain. Neville needed answers to his questions.

Edward bit his lip. He looked down. He couldn't look Neville in the eye. "No. None of them were healed." They had not been healed. Their souls lived in the Philosopher's Stones, forever in torment.

Something in Neville seemed to deflate. He gathered his belongings. "...Oh. Okay. Sorry for wasting your time, Mister Elric. Have a good day."

"Neville, wait-!"

But no, Neville had already left the dungeon, leaving Edward feeling worse than ever.

_Neville looked like he was in a right twist._

_Did he know someone who was tortured?_

Edward sighed. It wasn't his job to care for his students. He was supposed to teach, learn a bit more about Alchemy, and leave. But why then, did he care so much for his students?

_I'm going soft._

—-

"Do you really think Ed's been in a war?"

"You think he's lying?"

Harry shifted in his chair. "Not really, but it's just so sudden. I know Amestris is far away from Britain, but I can't remember any war that happened, if at all." Harry frowned. "I didn't even know a place called Amestris existed until two months ago."

"Believe what you want, but-" Hermione continued knitting her little hats for house-elves. "-Harry, didn't you go to muggle school?"

"Yeah, I did." Harry was unpleasantly reminded of running from Dudley's gang.

"Well, you probably know what Remembrance Day is, then." Hermione's needles clinked together. "I just think it's rude to think of Edward like that."

Harry said nothing.

Then he turned to Ron. "Say, Ron, you got any idea what _one is all, all is one_ means?"

Ron finished eating his Chocolate Frog. He put the wrapper in his pocket before answering Harry. "Not a clue, mate. What about you, Hermione?"

"I've got it."

The two boys waited for Hermione to elaborate further, but she didn't. Instead, she focused on making her little house elf hats.

"..Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to tell us the answer?"

Hermione scoffed. "I think you should invest some time in thinking about it."

"Hermione!"

"What!"

"We're going to be kicked out if we don't know the answer!"

"Well then, you should start thinking, right?"

Upstairs, as they were getting ready for bed, Dean came in too. He moved to his bed, and Dean was about to crawl in when Ron blurted out, "Hey, Dean-d'you know the answer to Ed's riddle?"

Dean had a strange look on his face but he answered, "Yeah, I know it."

"What! How?"

Dean had the full attention of Harry and Ron.

Dean shrugged, a hand through his hair. "It's obvious when you think about it, but-" He eyes cast down, somewhat embarrassed. "Well" he began slowly, "Over the summer break there wasn't much to do, so I just lazed around a lot at home, and, well, I rewatched a few old movies."

"Movies?" Ron asked suspiciously. Harry answered, "they're like plays, Ron, except that you can watch 'em over and over. But what's this about Alchemy?"

"One of the movies I rewatched-" Dean had a funny look in his eyes. "-was called _The Lion King_. Don't suppose you've heard of it, Harry?"

"Hm? Oh, I heard of it before." Harry didn't share that he'd never watched it.

"Well, there's this scene where there's a circle of-"

But then Seamus stormed in, and whatever peace between Dean and Ron and Harry was gone. He turned off his light. "Goodnight."

"Argh!" Ron whispered furiously to Harry. "We were so close, too! But I didn't get anything Dean said! Do you get it? Something about a movie and a lion and a circle..."

Harry sighed. He took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. He was too tired to care at the moment. "Don't get it either, Ron. Not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. 
> 
> I think Ed and Harry view themselves very differently from what others think of them. Ed thinks of Harry as a sort of confused hero who doesn't know anything (I mean, Molly Weasley has made sure of that) and Edward doesn't know about Harry's past yet. I think Harry views Edward as what he was supposed to be, i.e stronger, more confident, (even more) badaass attitude. Of course, Harry and Ed aren't so different from each other (but they don't want to admit it). 
> 
> Neville and his parents deserved SO MUCH BETTER. While I was writing this I couldn't help but imagine Neville, working up the nerve to ask "Professor Elric" about a very personal topic. Neville would be Ed's best student, 10/10. He has the somewhat desperate drive that I don't think Hermione is full of. 
> 
> I hope most of you understood the Lion King reference near the end of the chapter :)
> 
> I mean, Dean's mother was a muggle, it's possible for him to have watched it over the summer and then connect the dots to the circle of life later....
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Comment down below!


	13. Riddles and the Hog's Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed would be extremely pro-Dumbledore's Army, no two ways about it. 
> 
> But now that I think of it, what would he do in the DA?

There was one day left until the end of September, and Harry and Ron were getting antsy about Edward's riddle. They still hadn't a clue what it was, and Hermione refused to tell them.

"Think... _think_!" Ron clutched his head and closed his eyes, screwing up his face. Harry sighed. He did not have the slightest inkling what _one is all, all is one_ meant either.

The answer came during History of Magic.

Harry and Ron had been doodling together on a piece of paper, tuning out Professor Binns. "Harry," whispered Ron. "I dare you to flick a ball through Binns."

Harry drew a stick figure. "You owe me a Circe chocolate frog."

"Deal."

Harry wadded up the paper he was drawing on, crumpling it up into a little ball. He made to take aim, when he heard what Binns was saying.

"-Everyone thought this movement would be pointless, as there were only ten members in the Goblins-Redcap Society. But little did they know-" and now Professor Binns paused, then continued. "-little did they know, this movement would alter the relationship between Goblins and Redcap to this day. If I recall clearly, the exact words of Grond, one of the first members of the society, said, "Who cares if we're the minority? We'll forge relations with the Redcaps and become stronger! We're one against all, and we'll prevail." Binns coughed into his ghostly hand. "That was when they were first formed. Now, the Goblins-Redcap Society has become..."

Harry lowered the paper ball all of a sudden, feeling as though he haft been doused in ice-water. Ron tugged his sleeve. "Harry, did you chicken out?"

"Listen, Ron."

"Listen to what?"

"Listen to _Binns_!"

"What-Harry, you're telling me to listen to Professor Binns?" Ron said, puzzled.

"Yeah, did you hear what he just said?"

"What, something about Redcaps?"

"Yes, that, exactly!" Harry nudged Ron, whispering energetically (to Hermione's annoyance). "Don't you see? The Goblins-they wanted to do that society, thing, and-"

"What's this got to do with anything?" Ron tilted his head quizzically. "You're awfully excited about a Goblin-Redcap Society, Harry."

"No, no! I don't give anything about that Society, I mean-" the answer was so obvious, how had Harry never seen it before? He cleared his throat. "I mean, do you remember what that bloke said? _We're one against all_. One is all, all is one!"

"I'm still not catching on, Harry."

"Open your eyes, Ron!"

"My eyes _are_ open!" Ron complained. But Harry did not listen to his friend's woes, continuing to talk.

"You see? The Goblins-Redcap whatever, they were still going to go through with their society!"

"So you mean they didn't care?"

"Of course they cared!" Harry raked a hand through his messy hair. "You see, they said "we're one against all" remember the riddle? _One is all, all is one_ it means-"

Ron suddenly nodded his head. "Blimey, how'd we never get it before? Yes, yes, I get it now. We are the one, right, and everything else is the all?"

" _Yes_!"

Ron fell back in his chair. "We did it, Harry, we won't be kicked out!" He frowned. "You could have said it easier, Harry."

"That doesn't matter now, we got the answer!"

They were in high spirits in Edward's class. Ed was still wearing his military uniform, and it shocked Harry how normal it looked on Ed, like it was perfect. Ed seemed to hold himself with a higher bit of esteem (not that Harry would ever tell him).

"Take a seat" Ed said. He gave a stack of blank papers to Neville. "Pass them around, one to every student."

"As many of you know, today is September thirtieth. Your test, per se. When you get the paper Neville's handing out, write down your answer for the riddle." Ed knocked a white-gloved hand against the chalkboard, where the large letters of _ONE IS ALL, ALL IS ONE_ were. "This shouldn't take long."

Harry and Ron eagerly wrote down their answers, while some like Crabbe and Goyle simply shook their heads in befuddlement.

Edward frowned in Malfoy's direction. The blonde was diligently writing, actually concentrating on his work. The Fullmetal Alchemist checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed, more than enough time for them to write down their answers. Ed clapped his hands. "Time's up, everyone. Dean, go collect the papers, please."

He was confident that most had passed, after all, it wasn't _that_ hard, was it?

It only took him a minute to mark the papers, most with a single sentence on it. It was easy to see who had actually gotten the concept and who was bluffing. "Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle. You've just earned yourself a free period for the rest of the year." He showed them out, before slamming the door behind the not-all-all dejected trio. The "expelled" trio did not seem too dejected with their fate. 

The only Slytherins left were Zabini Blaise and Draco Malfoy. The two didn't seem very close.

"Alright." Edward rubbed his hands together. "First thing's first. We need to find out what _aptitude_ you have for what."

Neville's hand raised. "What's that, Professor?"

Edward picked up the chalk again. "You can't expect to fully master all basics of matter and Alchemy, that would take you far too long for far too little results. Most of my comrades and State Alchemists pride themselves on one thing they can do above everything else."

Edward wrote _FLAME_ on the chalkboard. "One of my superiors has been nicknamed the Flame Alchemist, for his prowess in fire-alchemy. For example, both he and I can start a fire, but he can do it much quicker." It pained Edward to compliment the Colonel. Edward continued, and he wrote _SILVER_ beside _FLAME_. "There was a State Alchemist who could create from, well, not silver exclusively, but was very skilled in creating metal and iron weapons." Ed proceeded to write _STRONG ARM_ beside it. "This is actually quite peculiar. The Strong Arm Alchemist techniques were actually passed down in the Armstrong family as traits of brute strength, rather than actual Alchemy."

"Professor?"

He turned back to see Seamus' hand in the air. "Yes?"

"What's your, er-" Seamus held up two fingers in air quotes. "-strong suit, then?"

Edward had thought of a lie before, to cover up his alias. Ed wrote, in smaller letters at the bottom. "Some call me the-" He wrote _FULLMETAL_. "-Fullmetal Alchemist. Most of my missions were in the city, giving me an edge in materials. I usually specialize in transmuting special metals, hence the metal in my nickname."

_That sounded real enough, right?_

_I don't need to explain about my leg and arm._

"First off-" Ed pointed to Seamus. "I know for a _fact_ you're made for Flame Alchemy."

Seamus turned rather scarlet, while Dean guffawed. "How'd you know?"

"Professor Flitwick told me about the exploding feather in your first-year" Ed said dryly. He turned to the two silent Slytherins that hadn't moved nor spoken. "You don't need to think about your aptitude right now" Ed said, and he began handing out slates and materials. "It should come naturally to you, whatever you're suited to."

The rest of the lesson was spent taking notes of various elements and components. Edward had them use basic materials such as wood and numerous metals, to see if they had any affinity towards it.

—-

"Oi, Professor" came Malfoy's lazy drawl. "Come here."

Scowling, Edward stomped to where Malfoy was sitting at the very back of the room. "Yes?" He asked warily. Draco pointed to his desk. "Is this it?" Edward gaped. They had only gone through the most basic of Transmutation circles, but Draco had obviously taken them great heed. Where a block of silver once sat in the middle of a basic Transmutation circle was a crudely-shaped owl. 

Edward had doubted his students would be able to perform a Transmutation circle at all, but Draco had clearly surpassed his expectations. 

Ed snatched the silver owl away, examining it. "Good work" Ed admitted. Indeed, it was almost prodigal, only one month into Alchemy classes. He set an iron block on the circle. "Let's see you do this with iron."

—-

"This is hard" Harry said, trying to draw a Transmutation circle. Drawing a circle with chalk was surprisingly hard. Every so often Harry glanced at the chalkboard, where there was a very basic Transmutation circle drawn on it. 

"You said it, mate" agreed Ron.

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, startling Harry so much he accidentally drew a line through his transmutation circle, "whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Course I have," said Harry grumpily, erasing his ruined transmutation circle, "can't forget it, can we, with that hag Umbridge teaching us -"

"I meant the idea Ron and I had -" Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, "- Oh, all right, the idea I had then - about you teaching us."

Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to be perusing a page of Asiatic Anti-Venoms, because he did not want to say what was in his mind.

He had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Hermione had proposed it, but at others, he had found himself thinking about the spells that had served him best in his various encounters with Dark creatures and Death Eaters - found himself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons...

"Well," he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms interesting, "yeah, I - I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" said Hermione eagerly.

"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again.

"You were the only person who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said -"

Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?"

"Ho ho," said Hermione in a bored voice. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang."

Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. "You're not still in contact with him, are you?"

"So what if I am" said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. "I can have a pen-pal if I -"

"He didn't only want to be your pen-pal," said Ron accusingly.

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?"

"Just you and Ron, yeah?"

"Well," said Hermione, looking a mite anxious again. "Well... now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say" said Hermione seriously. "Look," she leaned towards him - Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too - "you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

"Do you think we should tell Ed?"

Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn't want him to come - but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street towards them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him and Hermione. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf."

Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.

"The trouble is," she said to Harry, "until V-Voldemort - oh, for heaven's sake, Ron - comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up," said Ron bracingly. "Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, "Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade."

"Right," said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius.

"Don't worry, Harry" Hermione said quietly. "You've got enough on your plate without Sirius, too."

Edward strode back to them. "Are you all doing your work?" He asked briskly. Ed showed off two figures, a silver owl and an iron duck. "Malfoy's Transmuted two things so far, that's two more than all of you."

They had been so busy talking that they hadn't been paying attention. Hermione flushed, grabbing for the chalk. "Sorry, Ed, we-"

"There's no point in that, the bell's going to ring soon. Better pack up."

As usual, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind. Edward regarded them. "Say, do you know if Umbridge is going to come to my class again?"

"I doubt it" Ron laughed.

Harry said, "Ed, d'you want you come with us to Hogsmeade?"

"What's that?"

"It's the nearby village. You see, we're planning on-"

Hermione stepped on Harry's foot, speaking over him. "You don't have an owl, right? They sell owls in Hogsmeade."

Edward thought. "Yeah, I _do_ need an owl. I should send another report to Amestris soon. Sure, I'll go with you. When?"

"Is this weekend okay?"

"Should be. I'll see you later, then."

Once they were out of earshot Harry hissed to Hermione, "why'd you step on my shoe? That hurt!"

"Harry, I'm going to be honest with you. I don't know if Edward is all that reliable for our plan."

"Why not?" Harry argued. "He's a teacher, he's powerful, Ed's smart, and he hates Umbridge!"

"Yes, but I'm a bit afraid that his Amestris reports aren't all that-" Hermione kept her voice low. "-trustworthy."

Harry snorted. "You're too cautious, honestly."

—-

Edward counted out his coins. Wizarding money was weird. Seventeen what to _what_? He didn't get any of it.

_Nine more months until I can get back to Amestris, and I haven't learned anything about anything._

_But I want an owl._

_That would be cool._

On the weekend Edward tugged on his red cloak, changing back into his black leather clothing to his relief.

He met Ron, Hermione, and Harry outside and they walked to Hogsmeade. It was a surprisingly short trip, and Hermione led them to Madam Riley's Owlery.

Edward marvelled at all of the owls, from the small elf owls to the rather eerie barn owls (in Ed's opinion.)

But there was one owl that didn't like him. It was rather large, with two "horns" and bright orange eyes. It hooted menacingly at Ed. Edward glared right back.

_You don't like me? Well, I don't like you._

But suddenly, the owl lunged forward, beak open. On instinct Edward held up his right hand in defence.

 _Clang_.

The owl's beak struck auto-mail, and Ed smirked triumphantly at the owl's befuddled expression.

_Never tasted auto-mail, have you?_

Suddenly a portly woman ran to him, brandishing her wand. "I'm sorry, Mister" she said at once, "He's not the nicest owl-very sorry, Mister, here, let me get him off you..."

But Ed put a hand to the owl's head. "Don't worry, madam. I'll take him."

"Are you sure? He's rather aggressive at times, scares away my customers..."

"I'll take him" Ed said firmly. And so he paid for the owl, which he learned was a great-horned owl. It was rather heavy, sitting on Ed's shoulder. It's talons dug into Ed's auto-mail. But as he looked around the shop for Harry, Ron, and Hermione he found that the trio had vanished.

"Ron? Hermione? Harry?"

Ed glanced at the owl, who hooted dolefully. "Don't suppose you know where they went." The owl still hadn't had a name. Come to think of it, the owl's brown and yellow feathers gave Ed a reminiscent feel of his old home, Resembool.

"I'm not the best at names" Ed told the large owl. "How's 'Resembool'? I'll call you 'Bool' for short." The owl, Bool, hooted in agreement.

Ed set off. "Now, we just need to look for Harry, Ron, and Hermione..."

—-

"Wasn't too nice of you, Hermione, to leave Ed at Madam Riley's Owlery..."

"Don't worry, he'll find us soon."

"But why'd you leave him anyways?"

Hermione was quiet, and then she finally said, "I don't know if he'll agree with our plan."

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh - no," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit... you know... _dodgy_... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Harry stepped on to it he realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in his first year: "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hogs Head" he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon's egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time Harry had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog's Head.

There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Harry might have thought them Dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triplechecked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Harry dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

"What?" he grunted.

"Three Butterbeers, please," said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"Six Sickles," he said.

"I'll get them," said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes traveled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"You know what?" Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky -"

"You - are - a -prefect," snarled Hermione.

"Oh," said Ron, the smile fading from his face. "Yeah..."

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a back-flip) Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily, "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have... twenty-five Butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these..."

Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting some kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.

"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry," said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.

Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak; his mouth was exceptionally dry. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told him that, given her way, she would not be here at all.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well - er - hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

"Well... erm... well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea - I mean" (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us -" (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "- because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts -" ("Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "- Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells -"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because... because..." she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"Well... that's the plan, anyway" said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to -"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it -" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" said Ron, rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about -"

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry.

It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people - maybe even most of them - had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know -"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face, and was determined not to look at Cho. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. This was, he felt, all her fault; she had decided to display him like some sort of freak and of course they had all turned up to see just how wild his story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to -"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this. "Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.

"Er - you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked. The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So - is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

"Er - yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said "Wow!" softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now; he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cho.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone -"

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that - from You-Know-Who," finished Neville. Hannah Abbott's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things..."

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. The fact that Cho had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.

"Look," he said, and everyone fell silent at once, " I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Yeah, well -" said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is -"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Perhaps the word 'weasel' had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired George, pulling a long and lethal looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week -"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours." "Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," aid Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V- Voldemort's Death Eaters -"

"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan, who Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know- Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells -"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna so lemnly.

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of -"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.

"There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you -"

"Hem, hem," said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defense lessons?"

"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as -" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet..."

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard."

But Harry was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a lot more rebellious.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to-"

"What's all this?"

Heads turned to see Edward striding into the Hog's Head, confident as could be, a magnificent horned owl at his shoulder. Edward stood beside the bandaged man, slapping a coin on the counter. "Oi, gimme whatever their having." He pointed to Harry. The barman glared at Ed (which he returned) before bending down and slamming a bottle on the counter.

Edward popped it off and began to drink, walking towards the shocked group. "What?" Ed demanded. But then he made a face after he'd drunk some of the Butterbeer. "Bleh, it's too sweet. I'll take watered-down beer for this."

There was silence, until Lee's curiosity won his over.m "Ed, mate...you drink beer?" He asked, tone full of wonder.

Ed frowned. "I do during the Fuhrer celebrations, sometimes. That's obligatory, we're supposed to drink to honour the Fuhrer-but that doesn't matter. I drink the watered-down versions, when it's safer than water-what?"

Everyone was starting at him. Fred guffawed. "A drinking professor. Ed, you're cool, real cool."

Edward put his bottle down, crossing his arms. "Any chance you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"We'll tell you after" Hermione said hastily. She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.

"I - I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Er..." said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, "well... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I - well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found... well, I mean to say... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out -"

"A _Professor_ is joining. You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him. "I - yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it ' s just -"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I - yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Harry saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. When the last person - Zacharias - had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.

Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily, as she, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.

"You want to tell me what you were talking about?" Ed asked grumpily.

Harry flushed, pointing to Hermione. "You wanted to keep it from him, you explain."

Hermione was less than a minute into her stammered explanation when Ed slammed a hand on the table. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked heatedly. "I would've liked to be in, you know. What, you think 'cause I'm a professor, I'm going to tell on you?"

"That's exactly what she thought" Ron whispered to Harry.

Ed leaned back in his chair. "But anyways, yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The thing is-" Ed held up his hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

"...Can't you teach us more Alchemy? Like, more than you already do?"

Edward's expression turned guarded. "That would be hard. Alchemy shouldn't be rushed, it-" he noticed how some of the bar members were leaning in to hear him talk. Ed stood up, owl still on his shoulder. "Let's talk somewhere else."

"What's his name?" Harry asked Ed. Harry reached for the owl but the owl moved away. Ed patted the owl. "I named him Resembool."

"That's a weird name."

"Hey!"

"But he does seem to like you."

Ed smiled. "Yeah, I was okay with animals when I was younger."

"You had pets?"

"No, not pets, I used to live on the countryside, there were cows and pigs.."

Ron laughed. "Ed's a country boy! And here we thought you were all high and mighty!"

"What? Hey! Anyways, that's not true, I moved to Central City-" his expression grew somber. "-I moved to the City three, almost four years ago."

Hermione wisely changed the topic. "We still need to find a place to hold the meetings..."

But Harry did not contribute to the conversation, his head of full of thoughts of Cho Chang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being a soldier I assume that Ed has drunk beer at least a few times....I just think it's very badass of Edward ;D
> 
> If he was in the DA I think he would try to teach everyone basic fighting (but then he would just beat everyone up :/)
> 
> I think I might elaborate on the ending part next week :D y'know, how Ed said that he moved to Central several years ago. I think that would be a sad but meaningful moment in this fic. 
> 
> Comment down below, thank you, and see you next week!


	14. Hedwig: Infiltrated Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't too dangerous for the students to be transmitting small ducks, right? Like when Ed first did it when he was a little kid. It's not too dangerous, right..?? Idk
> 
> I'm sorry to say that this fic will take a two-week hiatus :( I still have online school and I'm in quite a few extracurriculars that have switched to online classes. This fic will update in two weeks, and I plan for it to be Dumbledore's Army's first meeting (with Ed, of course). 
> 
> Please accept this lil chapter until two weeks later :/ thank you very much for reading, every single one of you!

Harry felt happier for the rest of the weekend than he had done all term. He and Ron spent much of Sunday catching up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room they took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake.

Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.

Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry, and that he was a key part of the rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept reliving Saturdays meeting in his mind: all those people, coming to him to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts... and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things he had done... and Cho praising his performance in the Triwizard Tournament – The knowledge that all those people did not think him a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed him up so much that he was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of all his least favorite classes.

He and Ron headed downstairs from their dormitory, discussing Angelinas idea that they were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that night's Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor noticeboard; so large it covered everything else on it - the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys' latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_All student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An organization, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No student organization, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organization, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second-years.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked his friend.

"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," Ron said darkly, making the second-year jump. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" he asked Harry as the second-years hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice through again. The happiness that had filled him since Saturday was gone. His insides were pulsing with rage.

"This isn't a coincidence," he said, his hands forming fists. "She knows."

"She can't," said Ron at once.

"There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust... any of them could have run off and told Umbridge..."

And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him...

"Zacharias Smith!" said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. "Or - I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too -"

"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls' dormitories.

"Let's go and tell her," said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slid. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

"Er - I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. " I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed -?"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in Hogwarts A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"

"To see you - look at this!" said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard. Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony. "Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily.

"They can't have done," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're so naive," said Ron, "you think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy -"

"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well, put it this way" said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"

"We should tell Ed first, I doubt he knows."

—-

Edward woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door.

_Wha-_

_What time is it?_

Ed tumbled, falling off the bed with a _crash_! He groaned, rubbing his eyes that were still not accustomed to the light. "Ed?"

It was Harry. Ed shouted back, "Coming! Stay there!"

Where was a cloak when you needed one? Ed was wearing a black tank and boxers, clearly exposing his metal limbs.

_Dammit, where's my clothes?_

He dashed everywhere in his room, digging through his bag.

—-

"Coming! Stay where you are!"

Harry looked at Ron. "What d'you reckon Ed's doing?"

Ron shrugged. "Probably just woke up. But Edward's got to hurry, our class starts soon, and he's got to teach, hasn't he?"

A series of crashes resounded in the room, but before Harry could yank open the door and see what was going on Edward threw open the door, wearing his rumpled military uniform. "What's going on?" He groused. His hair was swept one way and he had just finished pulling on his white gloves.

Harry showed Ed the paper that had been tacked on the Gryffindor notice board. "See for yourself. What are we going to do?"

Edward only glanced at the paper for a second before shrugging and pushing it away. "We do it anyways, obviously."

The thought had been in Harry's mind, but hearing Edward say it seemed to relax him. Harry crumpled up the poster. "Yeah, you're right."

"Of course we're going to continue" agreed Ron and Hermione.

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Edward, Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

"We're going to do it anyway of course," he said quietly. Ed grinned, patting Harry on the back. "Nothing better to clear your mind than a bit of rule-breaking" the Amestrian said cheerfully.

Ron glanced at Ed. "You seem awful confident about that, Ed."

Edward nabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice, draining the contents with one gulp. He set the cup down, wiping his mouth. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Ron laughed. "I don't know, maybe because you're part of the Amestrian military?"

Ed snickered. "Rules are meant to be broken, wherever you go." He caught them staring, and Edward added hastily, "just don't quote me."

"Knew you'd say that"' said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course," said Hermione coolly.

"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione looked alarmed.

"Nevermind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious - sit down!" she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table.

"Later! We'll - talk - to - you - later!"

"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, "the fool, honestly..."

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

"Harry! Ron!"

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.

"It's okay," said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. "We're still going to -"

"You realize she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"

"What?" said Harry.

"No way," said Ron, appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry... I am saying this for the last time... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!"

"Okay,okay," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself..."

"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. They waved Edward good-bye.

"She hasn't inspected Binns yet... bet you anything she's there..."

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment ignoring Hermione's frequent glares and nudges, until a particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look up angrily.

"What?"

She pointed at the window. Harry looked round. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry could not understand it; they had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other, too.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Harry heard Lavender sigh to Parvati.

He glanced round at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.

Only then did he realize that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. "Look - there's something wrong with her wing -"

—-

Edward didn't have to teach first thing in the morning, so he set off to the staff room.

Edward Elric had been residing in Hogwarts for a little more than a month, and he was no closer to discovering what exactly the Order of the Phoenix was hiding. It seemed they had neglected to tell Ed, however much it irked him to think of it like that.

Ed thought that he would be able to talk to Professor McGonagall about it but he was sorely disappointed.

Upon opening the door to the staff-room he was met with not only Professor McGonagall, but also Professor Grubbly-Plank. The two women were sitting down at the table, the same table Ed had sat at before.

"Ah, Edward" McGonagall greeted him. "Did you want to talk about something?"

"Oh, no, I just, um-"

But at that moment there was knocking at the staffroom door. Professor McGonagall stood up. "Excuse me" she said briskly. Just as she was about to open the door Ed heard her mutter, "if it's Potter again..."

—-

Once outside his History of Magic classroom, Harry returned Hedwig to his shoulder and hurried off up the corridor, pausing to think only when he was out of sight of Binns's door. His first choice of somebody to cure Hedwig would have been Hagrid, of course, but as he had no idea where Hagrid was his only remaining option was to find Professor Grubbly-Plank and hope she would help.

He peered out of a window at the blustery, overcast grounds. There was no sign of her anywhere near Hagrid's cabin; if she was not teaching, she was probably in the staff room. He set off downstairs, Hedwig hooting feebly as she swayed on his shoulder.

Two stone gargoyles flanked the staff-room door. As Harry approached, one of them croaked, "You should be in class, Sonny Jim."

"This is urgent," said Harry curtly.

"Ooooh, urgent, is it?" said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. "Well, that's put us in our place, hasn't it?"

Harry knocked. He heard footsteps, then the door opened and he found himself face to face with Professor McGonagall.

"You haven't been given another detention!" she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly.

"No, Professor!" said Harry hastily.

"Well then, why are you out of class?"

"It's urgent, apparently," said the second gargoyle snidely.

"I'm looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank," Harry explained. "It's my owl, she's injured."

"Injured owl, did you say?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at Professor McGonagall's shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

To Harry's relief (or his surprise, it was hard to tell) Edward's blond head popped up behind Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Yes," said Harry, lifting Hedwig carefully off his shoulder, "she turned up after the other post owls and her wing's all funny, look -"

Professor Grubbly-Plank stuck her pipe firmly between her teeth and took Hedwig from Harry while Professor McGonagall and Ed watched.

"Hmm," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. "Looks like something's attacked her. Can't think what would have done it, though. Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid's got the Hogwarts Thestrals well-trained not to touch owls."

Harry neither knew nor cared what Thestrals were; he just wanted to know that Hedwig was going to be all right. Professor McGonagall, however, looked sharply at Harry and said, "Do you know how far this owl's traveled, Potter?"

"Er," said Harry. "From London, I think."

He met her eyes briefly and knew, by the way her eyebrows had joined in the middle, that she understood 'London' to mean 'number twelve, Grimmauld Place'. Edward had stopped jumping up and down, trying to see what the fuss was about; he had clearly connected the dots too.

Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye, to examine Hedwig's wing closely. "I should be able to sort this out if you leave her with me, Potter," she said, "she shouldn't be flying long distances for a few days, in any case."

"Er - right - thanks"' said Harry, just as the bell rang for break.

"No problem," said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly, turning back into the staff room. "Just a moment, Wilhelmina!" said Professor McGonagall. "Potters letter!"

"Oh yeah!" said Harry, who had momentarily forgotten the scroll tied to Hedwig's leg. Professor Grubbly-Plank handed it over and then disappeared into the staff room carrying Hedwig, who was staring at Harry as though unable to believe he would give her away like this. Feeling slightly guilty, he turned to go, but Professor McGonagall called him back.

"Potter!"

"Yes, Professor?"

She glanced up and down the corridor; there were students coming from both directions.

"Bear in mind," she said quickly and quietly, her eyes on the scroll in his hand, "that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, won't you?" She turned to Ed. "Escort Mister Potter to his next class, will you, Edward? Heaven knows what kind of trouble he'll be getting in the hallways." McGonagall pushed a disgruntled Ed out the door with Harry.

"I -" said Harry, but the flood of students rolling along the corridor was almost upon him.

Professor McGonagall gave him and Ed a curt nod and retreated into the staff room, leaving Harry to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd. He spotted Ron and Hermione already standing in a sheltered corner, their cloak collars turned up against the wind. Harry slit open the scroll as he hurried towards them and found five words in Sirius's handwriting:

_Today, same time, same place._

"Is Hedwig okay?" asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot.

"Where did you take her?" asked Ron.

"To Grubbly-Plank," said Harry. "And I met McGonagall..She told Ed to come with me... listen..."

And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, neither of the others looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.

"What?" said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again.

"Well, I was just saying to Ron... what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"

"Who's the letter from, anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles"' said Harry quietly.

"'Same time, same place?' Does he mean the fire in the common room?"

"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this..."

"Who's Snuffles?"

Hermione answered Ed. "Oh, that's just the name we give Sirius when we talk about him outside...so common room, right?"

"Wait what?"

"Sirius sometimes talks to us via the Floo network" Harry whispered to Ed.

Edward looked scandalized. "And _you didn't tell me?_ " He demanded hotly.

"But it was still sealed and everything," said Harry, oblivious to Ed's woes.

"And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"

"I don't know," said Hermione anxiously, hitching h er bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, "it wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!"

They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all four of them lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the steps they were recalled to themselves by the loud voice of Draco Malfoy who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants." Ed simply rolled his eyes.

"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... and as for Potter... my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter; Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee. Edward sighed. He didn't have time to endure Malfoy's pointless taunts. He turned, preparing to leave.

Something collided hard with Harry and Ed's shoulders, knocking him sideways. A split second later he realized that Neville had just charged past him, heading straight for Malfoy.

"Neville, no!"

Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.

"Help me!" Harry flung at Ron, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms as they stepped in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Ron seized Neville's arms, and together he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth.

"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him..." He suddenly broke free of Harry and Ron, then charged once again-

Edward stepped in front of Neville. The Longbottom boy made to shove past Edward but the Fullmetal Alchemist was faster; he took Neville's arms and held on tight, rather strong for someone of his stature. Neville strained against Edward, the smaller boy so much stronger. "let go, Professor Elric-" Neville said angrily.

The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Ron were on the side with Ed who was grappling with Neville.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Elric. Tussling with students does horrible things to your image. Don't _you_ have a class to teach?"

Edward let go of Neville, striding back to the Alchemy classroom with a venomous look at Snape and Draco.

"Ed and I had to stop you," Harry whispered to Neville, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."

Neville said nothing; he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon. "What in the name of Merlin," said Ron slowly, as they followed Neville, "was that about?"

Harry did not answer. He knew exactly why the subject of people who were in St. Mungo's because of magical damage to their brains was highly distressing to Neville, but he had sworn to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone Neville's secret. Even Neville did not know Harry knew.

Harry, Ron and Hermione took their usual seats at the back of the class, pulled out parchment, quills and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herb s and Fungi. The class around them was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody immediately fell silent.

"You will notice," said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and Harry saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. He glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione, his eyebrows raised. Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers he hated most. It was hard to decide which one he wanted to triumph over the other.

\---

As Ed strode back to his own classroom he could not help but think of the helpless and incoherent rage that had overtaken Neville when Draco spoke.

_Brains addled with magic..._

Edward remembered a few weeks ago what Neville Longbottom, the shyest of Gryffindors had asked him at the end of class.

_Were people tortured in your war, Professor?_

_Were any of them healed?_

Ed remembered his forlorn response. _No one had been healed._

_Neville, poor lad._

_Maybe I should ask what's bothering him._

Edward cleaned up his classroom, shelving a few more books.

_You're turning soft in Hogwarts._

\---

"Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked Snape, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. Harry, watching him closely, added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled.

"Obviously"

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers - er - backgrounds."

"D'you think she'll question Ed later?" Ron whispered to Harry.

Harry shrugged. He was more focused on his potion than worrying about Edward.

Umbridge turned away, and walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked round at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber.

"No marks again, then, Potter" said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry furiously. Snape had already given them homework and he had Quidditch practice this evening; this would mean another couple of sleepless nights. It did not seem possible that he had awoken that morning feeling very happy. All he felt now was a fervent desire for this day to end.

"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," he said glumly, as they stood in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night."

"You can't skive off Divination," said Hermione severely.  
"Hark who's talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!" said Ron indignantly.

"I don't hate her," said Hermione loftily. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud. But Harrys already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"

There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later Harry took his seat in the hot, overperfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom, feeling angry at everybody. Professor Trelawney was yet again handing out copies of The Dream Oracle. Harry thought he'd surely be much better employed doing Snape's punishment essay than sitting here trying to find meaning in a lot of made-up dreams.

It seemed, however, that he was not the only person in Divination who was in a temper. Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry and Ron and swept away, her lips pursed; she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus's head, and thrust the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouffe.

"Well, carry on!" said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical, "you know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?"

The class stared perplexedly at her, then at each other. Harry, however, thought he knew what was the matter. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teacher's chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, he leaned his head closer to Ron's and muttered, "I think she's got the results of her inspection back."

Not only did Harry and Ron have to hear the woes of Professor Trelawney, they were subject to Dolores' Umbridge's class right after.

Professor Umbridge smiled when they were in her class.

"Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled 'Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack'. There will be -"

"- no need to talk," Harry, Ron and Hermione said together, under their breaths.

\---

Edward picked up another sheet of paper that was on the ground. The first years were rather careless with their belongings.

Strangely enough, the first and second years were probably his best students. They had not yet undergone the changes of puberty, meaning the vast majority was still shorter than him. Also, it seemed the eleven and twelve year olds had retained the most of their Muggle studies.

He heard the bell ring, outside of his classroom.

Ed quickly set the books away and dug out new ones, books that were specially for the class. He held the door open as the students walked in. Draco and Blaise walked in first, the only Slytherins in the fifth year that had managed to pass Ed's riddle.

"Draco" Edward began. The Malfoy heir shot him a smug look. "Yes, _professor_?"

"Cut the crap" Ed said irritably. The grin slid off Draco's face. Ed gave a book to him. "Yesterday, you showed proficiency towards rich metals. Read up on the materials. Metals are somewhat more complicated than natural elements; I recommend a head start."

Draco took the book with surprising gentleness, stalking off to the back of the class. Edward caught Blaise's shoulder. "Mister Zabini."

"Yes?"

Ed pointed to a large bucket filled to the brim with assorted materials. "I suggest you start looking for your proficiency, Blaise."

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in, annoyed expressions on all of their faces. Ed guessed that they had had Professor Umbridge. They were soon followed by Dean and Seamus, and finally Neville lagging behind.

Edward grabbed a few materials in the bucket, heading towards the Gryffindors.

"Have any of you developed an aptitude for anything?"

They all shook their heads, except for Seamus.

Ed pointed to him. "Seamus, just study on materials at the moment. I'm not an expert on Flame Alchemy."

Seamus nodded and took a book, and Ed turned on the rest. "The rest of you, either study the elements or at least attempt-" he flung out an arm towards the chalkboard, where the simple transmutation circle was. "-that circle." He raked them with his eyes. " _Do not attempt anything more complicated, got it?"_ He pointed to Hermione. "I'm sure you can tell us what an Alchemical rebound is."

Hermione said promptly, "When too much is attempted out of too little, what occurs is called a rebound, in which the alchemical forces that are thrown out of balance on either side of the equation fluctuate wildly of their own accord in order to stabilize themselves - taking or giving more than was intended in often unpredictable and catastrophic ways such as accidental mutation, serious injury, or death." Ed stared at Ron and Harry. "Understand?"

—-

It turned out, there was no need to caution them on rebounds. Ron and Harry seemed so out of it Ed had seriously considered bringing back his Sensei's original teaching methods.

But he did not have a chance, for when the bell rung Harry and Ron almost dashed out of the room. Hermione followed, with an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry, Professor, but-" she glanced around, where Draco and Blaise were nearing the front. Hermione whispered, "I'll tell you later" she promised, and she was gone too, after the two boys.

Edward sighed. He hoped that the trio might learn something from Sirius' nightly visits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I won't include Sirius' little fireplace talk/almost getting caught because I'm pretty sure you guys know it, so the next chapter (updated in two weeks) will be them at their first DA meeting with Ed in the backgroundTM. 
> 
> He would just stare at them trying to use spells and mutter "alchemy...better than that" and then y'know, he might just teach them a thing of Izumi Curtis or two. 
> 
> All your kudos and comments motivate me to keep going! I apologize for the two-week long wait this week :( I promise to work harder in the future!


	15. Dumbledore's Army: First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the long wait. 
> 
> I went through a little thinking zone, where I battled with the thought of rewriting the whole thing. I know that this is really long, and it's only because the majority at the start is copy/pasted. 
> 
> I promise that as soon as I finish this, I'll rewrite the copy/pasted chapters into something that you readers can actually enjoy. 
> 
> I'm really sorry for the wait.

Ed was surprised to find Harry, Ron and Hermione eating their breakfast with downtrodden expressions. "What's up?"

Harry grabbed Ed's auto mail arm, a little more than desperately. "Edward, did you send out any more letters?"

Ed tried not to be rude as he slowly (read: desperately) tried to pry Harry's thin fingers off of his metal arm before Harry grew suspicious at the hardness of his limb. "...No, I've only sent out that one letter from Grimmauld place back in the summer, I used Hedwig, remember? I haven't sent anything with Bool yet." True enough, Bool had stayed in his cage. He had been planning on sending out another report soon.

Harry put his face in his hands. "Dammit! How could she have found out?"

Ed took a seat beside them. "How was your visit with Sirius?"

And so they told him, from Sirius knowing about Dumbledore's Army to Umbridge's ugly hand swiping through the fireplace. Ed devoured yet another plate of Yorkshire pudding, thinking. "You sure it was Umbridge?"

Ron snorted. "Of course, there isn't anyone else who wears that many stupid rings on their fingers."

"Does this have anything to do with Hedwig's injured wing?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I think so. She's never been injured before, someone must have read her letter."

"But then wouldn't the wax be broken?"

"Nah, there are plenty of spells for that, a Sealing spell, for one..."

Ed snapped his fingers. "I have an idea, to see if our mail is being read."

"Really, Ed?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Edward turned to the trio. "Do you know what latent fingerprints are?"

"No" the three of them chorused together. Ed rubbed his gloved hands together. "Latent fingerprints are invisible to the normal eye, but with magnet powders they become visible" he watched their eyes grow wider. "It's easy, really. Just send a letter, get it back, and I'll dust it over to see if there are any fingerprints."

"Blimey" Ron said, in total awe. "Muggles created that?"

Ed frowned. "If you mean normal humans, then yes."

"Hm, we give muggles less credit than they deserve." Hermione elbowed Ron. "Now you finally appreciate muggle technology!"

Edward stretched. "I'll just send a letter to the Colonel, then-"

"Wait a minute. Ed, won't your fingerprints show up? And won't the 'Colonel' also have fingerprints?"

At this Ed grinned broadly. "I'm not the only person who wears gloves."

"How are you going to get the powder?"

"That's easy to get, it's just iron fillings and a metal rod, I can ask the Potions professor for that, can't I?"

"You're going to ask _Snape_?"

Ed stuck yet another popover in his mouth. "What's wrong with asking Snape?"

Harry sighed, returning to his half-eaten breakfast. "Nothing. But anyways-" his face brightened. "-Now we'll know if Umbridge is checking our mail, or if it was just luck that she almost found Sirius in the fireplace last night."

"If it was luck last night that Umbridge found Sirius, then I'm your uncle" muttered Ron.

\---

Edward experienced his first Alchemical rebound while teaching the Weasley twins.

It was the middle of the class, and Ed thought things were going pretty well. He had confiscated only one bottle of baby tarantulas from Lee Jordan today, and had told off Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet twice for talking. It seemed to be a productive Alchemical class. Kenneth Towler had even Transmuted a little duck out of wood, prompting Ed that the Gryffindor had an affinity for something at least.

Sure, the twins were a bit quieter than usual, but Ed wasn't about to bother them about that. He had walked across the classroom, when he saw the Weasley twins crouched over what looked like a Transmutation circle. Wary of what they were about to do, Ed strode towards them. He was right to do that. When nearing the circle, he saw that the Transmutation circle looked suspiciously _bare_. There were few runes on the side. And as Fred and George raised their hands, Ed saw a smudge on the edge, making the circle incomplete.

Edward sprinted towards them, shoving students out of the way. "Everyone _move_!" He all but screamed, and most ducked out of his way, too surprised to do anything else. But it was like slow motion as Edward watched the twins' hands touch the circle.

With one final burst of strength, Ed grabbed the collars of the Weasley twins and threw them behind him, just as there was a huge explosion.

It rocked the class, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Bright light blinded everyone for a seconds.

Lee Jordan was the first one up. He brushed dust and plaster off from his shoulders, coughing at the sheer amount of dust in the air. "Bloody hell, what _was_ that?"

But no one answered him, for everyone else was staring at Professor Elric.

"...infirmary...now." Ed's left sleeve had been torn to shreds, exposing blood pouring out of a wound on his arm. There was a shard of glass stuck there too.

There was scared silence, until Edward barked, louder, " _now!_ I can't get there by myself, you know."

The twins knelt under Edward, supporting his weight. "We'll take you" George said, surprisingly somber. "We're really sorry, Prof, we didn't know-"

"Maybe less talking and more walking, Weasleys." Edward winced, feeling the metal shard dig into his arm. He glanced back at the rest of the class. "Class is dismissed" he said curtly, dragged by the Weasley twins, drops of blood following them down the corridor, to say nothing of the shell shocked class.

Ed was thankful that his sleeve over his metal arm was still intact, as was his metal leg. It was only his left arm that was hurt.

Fred grunted. "God, Ed, for a small person, you're heavy."

"I am not small!"

George cleared his throat. "What _was_ that, Ed?" His voice was low and apologetic.

"It's an Alchemical rebound. Happens when you-" he glared at the twins. "-When you try to _cheat_ Alchemy. I saw that circle, Weasleys. There weren't enough runes and transcriptions on it. And your circle was damaged."

"Blimey, even that can cause a rebound?"

"Yes, the smallest interruption can cause something to go out of order." Edward skewered the twins with a look. " _Do you understand_?"

"Yes, Ed" George answered meekly, while Fred said nothing, a smirk playing around his face.

George held the door open for them as Fred carried Ed into the infirmary. "Hello? Madam Pomfrey?" He called out.

Madam Pomfrey opened the door from her office, looking thoroughly cross. "Is that a Weasley twin I hear? You better not have injured yourselves again-"

"It's not us this time, ma'am. It's Professor Elric."

She took one look at Ed and her face went white. "What in the _heavens_?!"

—-

After lunch, Harry frowned at the sign that was hastily tacked on the Alchemy classroom door.

It read, _Study Period. Free Time. Or whatever. Don't get in trouble._

"Huh. I wanted to tell Ed about the DA." Hermione sidled up to Harry. "You mean your conversation with Winky last night?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah. I want our first meeting to be today, and I thought Ed would have been interested in the Room of Requirement."

"Is something wrong with Ed?" Ron took a look at the sign. "We haven't seen him since the morning..what could have happened?"

Draco overheard them and stalked over. "Why, no class today? Maybe Elric's finally blasted himself to bits, with his alchemy and that nastiness."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

Ron pulled Harry back. "Cool it, mate. Draco doesn't know."

"How do _you_ know, then?"

Ron jabbed a thumb towards the sign. "That's Fred's handwriting" the redhead said grimly. "If anyone knows, it's the twins."

"But we can't ask them _now,_ they're in class."

"So I guess we ask them after class."

Sure enough, as soon as Ron spotted his older brothers in the late afternoon he walked over, Harry and Hermione struggling to catch up to Ron's long strides.

"Oi! Why's Alchemy class cancelled today?"

Fred picked little crumbs off of his pie. "Ed got..into an accident. George and I were trying to transmute on this circle that we'd drawn, and-" George coughed into his fist. "You're leaving some things out, mate."

"-I'm getting there, George. So anyways-" Fred faced Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "-We tried this new thing, and it didn't work. There was a huge explosion-" Fred spread his hands out, miming a blast. "-Ed needed to go to the hospital."

At the stricken look on their faces Fred hastily added, "don't worry! Only his arm is hurt, that's it, he's not _dead_ or anything..."

—-

Ed sighed and buried his face in his pillow.

Madam Pomfrey was undoubtedly the most strong-willed person he had ever met in his life.

She had not listened to one bit of Ed's woes and instead had pushed him firmly onto one of the hospital cots with a glass of water, telling him to sit down and wait a while.

It had been a while.

Madam Pomfrey had healed Edward's arm with a simple wave of her wand, something that completely _baffled_ Edward. He had not felt any sort of pain, just a sort of tingle, and the blood and torn skin had vanished to be replaced by flesh as smooth as if he had never injured it.

Ed was grateful it was his left arm that was hurt, otherwise he would have had a hard time telling Madam Pomfrey why his right arm was auto mail.

He had just started getting used to the cushy hospital bed and the smell of disinfectant in the air when he once again heard shouting. It was not from him, which was supremely unusual.

Edward was just going to get out of his cot to see what the fuss was about when the door burst open and Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to him. Madam Pomfrey was pink the face and was brandishing her wand most threatening.

"Ed! We talked to Fred, and he said-"

"Relax." Ed moved both of his arms. "Madam Pomfrey healed me and that's very jolly and all- _only if she could release me from the hospital ward_." He sent a nasty look towards the nurse.

Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Mister Elric! You were _injured_ , and you will need to stay in the infirmary, for as long as I deem acceptable-!"

"Um, Madam Pomfrey?"

The nurse looked around, then set her eyes on Hermione who had her hand up. "Yes, girl?"

Hermione nervously proffered a slip of paper to Madam Pomfrey. "W-Well, we t-talked to Professor Flitwick, and he needs Ed to examine some new mineral imports..." she trailed off as she stared anxiously at Madam Pomfrey's pinched-up face.

There was a silence, until the nurse scowled and pocketed the slip of paper. "Well-I bet Filius could use some help with his research" she said begrudgingly, and it was like the weight of the world was lifted off of Hermione's shoulders. She leaned towards Harry and Ron. "Thank you so much Madam Pomfrey!"

After a scrutinizing look, Edward was released from the clutches of the infirmary.

They started talking when they were out of Madam Pomfrey's earshot. Ed cleared his throat, stuffing his left hand into his pocket. His glove had been ripped off, and even though it was his normal hand it still felt somewhat odd. "So...are we going to Flitwick's office? He didn't speak to me about new minerals-"

Harry cut Ed off. "No. You're not going to Flitwick's."

"...You guys forged the note, didn't you?"

Hermione flushed. "I-It's not _forging_ , we just needed to get you out of the infirmary, it's a one-time use, we're not doing it again-"

"You should have seen Hermione, Ed. She thought of it."

" _Ron_!"

"Say, what _really_ happened, Ed? Fred just said there was an explosion or something-"

Edward snorted. "It's the twin's fault I was sent to the hospital. They tried to cheat Alchemy and-" his features softened, a strange look on him. "-well. You saw what happened. They experienced a _rebound_ , when your so-called 'magic' doesn't go the way you want. But anyways-" he took on a businesslike tone, contrary to his short figure.

"-Did you have something you want to show me? Did you figure out how Umbridge found out about Sirius?"

"Nah, mate. But we found something that's equally special. I found somewhere to house our meetings."

"The meetings for your little secret magic classes?"

"Well, yeah. I'll show you after we eat." They made their way to the Great Hall, where students were already sitting, waiting for the empty plates in front of them to fill with food.

—-

Ed met Harry, Ron and Hermione outside of the Gryffindor common room at half-past seven. "So...where's the meeting place?" He was wearing the jacket of his Amestrian uniform and it gave him a detective-esque look.

In Harry's hands were a yellowed piece of parchment, one that looked like it might rip.

"We should hurry-"

"Relax, Hermione. Fifth-years are allowed until nine, remember?"

"Yeah, but professors are allowed out at all times. You'll be good if you're with me." Ed buttoned the top of his coat.

"I think it would be better if we didn't broadcast the fact, though..."

They walked down the steps, but all of them were on guard for Filch or Umbridge. It didn't help that each _click_ of Edward's boots sent conscious shivers up their spines.

"This is it?" They were in front of an unfairly tall blank wall. Edward knocked a gloved hand against the wall. "It isn't hollow. Where's the secret training spot you told us about?"

"It's magic, Ed. You need to, well-you need to _think_. Close your eyes and imagine a place without Umbridge, where she can't get in, a place to train..."

 _Bull_ , Edward thought sourly, but he closed his eyes nonetheless. Perhaps it was the trip to the infirmary, perhaps it was Fred and George's foolish Alchemical rebound, perhaps it was Umbridge herself, but Ed was having a rather bad day.

"You can open your eyes now, Ed."

"That was absolutely useless, now we-" but his complaints stopped as he gaped open mouthed at the majestic door that had seemingly _appeared_ on the previously blank wall.

Harry opened the door.

The first thought that went through Edward's mind was, _this was his kind of place._ Books lined up neatly, with titles that spoke of the unordinary and unusual. There were shelves of other things, too, little trinkets that Ed would no doubt have fun taking apart and piecing back together.

Unfortunately, this was not a room exclusively for the Fullmetal Alchemist. It was the meeting grounds for Hogwarts students trying to learn magic.

Edward followed Hermione and sat next to her while she read a random book of the shelf, he idly rolled a strange sphere that was pointed at one end. It looked to be made of glass, but before Ed could examine any further Harry snatched the thing out of his hand. "That's a sneakoscope. It detects when someone is doing something untrustworthy." It was silent, for now.

Ed simply stuck out his tongue, and when Harry wasn't looking he grabbed the sneakoscope back, already contemplating its properties.

People came into the room, but Edward didn't pay too much mind to who came in. They hadn't really needed him here, anyways. He was more of a supervisor, really...what he wouldn't give to have a good fight, something, anything to get his blood pumping.

"Oh, _please,_ what's _expelliarmus_ going to help us against You-Know-Who-? Really, I thought I was going to _learn_ something here-"

"Shut up and listen then, maybe you'll pick up something."

Everyone jumped and looked around frantically, before they spotted Edward curled up on one of the cushy chairs. He had been quiet enough that almost no one had noticed him.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "This is...Professor Elric. He'll be overseeing all of our practices."

"A _professor_?"

"Yeah. You have something against it?"

Although the majority were somewhat leery of him they did not question it further.

Edward thought he could sit down and simply watch in peace, but that clearly wasn't an option now that they started practicing Disarming spells. Beams of light flew in every direction, so did books and cushions. One particularly thick book hit Edward square on the head.

He spent some time watching them practice, and it was less impressive then he'd thought. Many people weren't successful at all, and quite a few were just standing there.

_Like sitting ducks._

Ed tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Oi. Did you call me here for something other than watching?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "To be blunt, I thought some of the students could learn a little...." he waved his arms. "Y'know, fighting or whatever. Self-defence. I just think it could be useful-no, you don't have to teach it if you don't want to-"

But Edward had already strode away, a grin on his face. "Say no more, Potter! HEY!" The loud yell startled many, but all eyes were on Edward, including Zacharias Smith.

Ed cracked his knuckles (well, knuckle. He only had one real knuckle, after all). "If you're bad at these spells or whatever, come over to this side." He raised a gloved hand. "I'll teach you to fight."

There was a silence, but was broken most rudely by Zacharias. "You're joking" he sneered, very unusual for a Hufflepuff. "I don't need to learn to fight like some hooligan-"

Edward rushed towards him, making sure to slam him into the wall with his metal hand for more impact. He held the Hufflepuff there, while Zacharias grasped weakly at his hand. "Would you like to say that again?"

Dean whistled. "Brilliant, Elric." He and Seamus moved towards Edward's corner, so did the twins.

—-

Edward slumped back onto one of the chairs after everyone else (save for Harry, Ron, and Hermione) left. "You didn't tell me they were _that bad_." He complained.

Ron chuckled. "Tell me about it. When you punched Smith-epic."

Hermione shot him a look. "Ed's meant to _teach_ them, not beat them to a pulp!"

"That's the same thing!"

"Students need a little edge" Edward said confidently. "It's how I learned."

"I hate to break it to you Ed, but Hogwarts _does_ have rules on corporal punishment, you know."

"What's corporal punishment?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is shorter than the other ones, but it's because this one was one hundred percent original work (similar to the first chapters, if I recall) 
> 
> I hope to update soon, please leave your thoughts down below!
> 
> And yes, I assume Ed's never heard of corporal punishment before :3


	16. I Can't Believe I Didn't Start The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back ladies and gents and other rodents 
> 
> This chapter was to be more observant about Ed and his nature, while furthering the plot. I'm extremely exited to write the next chapter! :) 
> 
> There are some things I wrote at the bottom that I think are a little interesting^^
> 
> Anyways, have fun reading!

As the weeks went by, Edward noted that Harry's mood had taken a _much_ better turn than before, from grumbling looks to excited participation in Ed's class.

He suspected it had something to do with Dumbledore's Army, and he was not wrong. He watched Harry teach them how to cast spell after jinx, and while the alchemist himself was unable to cast magic Edward took great delight in watching Zachary Smith fail.

Of course, Ed's mood had gone the other way, while Harry's went up. He had never realized how lonely he was. He had always been with Alphonse or the Colonel or the Lieutenant or away with a job, and teaching had given him too much free time on his hands.

He sometimes wished that he was a student, that he would get in trouble and he would laugh with his peers, instead of feeling far away from them. Indeed, when Ed's pupils called him "Professor Elric" he didn't feel savage gratification as he thought he would.

Edward pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from inside his breast pocket. Talking with Alphonse was one of his greatest joys, to find out what he had missed. Ed had not forgotten about the Promised Day.

_Hey Ed!_

_Today I went out with Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye! They were on patrol and Mustang said that I looked bored and he asked me if I would like to walk with them!_

_When we were outside I found a stray cat! It was really cute, orange with these white spots on it, like a cow, if cows were orange. I tried to pet it but it hissed at me and ran away._

Edward laughed at the badly drawn frowny face on the letter. When would Alphonse learn that not every cat would like a large hulking piece of armour?

_You know what else happened? We passed an ice cream stand and Lieutenant Hawkeye offered to buy me ice cream! Well, she regretted saying it, I could tell. She tried to apologize but I told her it was okay, she bought me strawberry ice cream so I could give it to the little children at the orphanage, you should have seen their faces light up!_

The Fullmetal Alchemist's expression sobered as he read through the last paragraph. So Lieutenant Hawkeye had a soft spot after all. He hoped her feelings weren't hurt, he knew Alphonse would have loved the ice cream if he was able to eat it.

_Anyways, Doctor Marcoh is hard at work right now! He says that there's no time to lose before the Promised Day, even though it's almost half a year away. I think he needs a break! And Mei Chang's weird cat even started warming up towards me!_

_I hope your automail hasn't broken yet! Winry would be really mad if she found out!_

_-Your little brother, Alphonse_

_P.S when am I going to see you again? You said that I could visit soon!_

Alphonse's letters were greatly appreciated, compared to Colonel Mustang's boring reports. Edward tucked the letter back in his pocket, making a note to write back to his little brother.

There were multiple letters needing to be sent. He remembered the letter he'd suggested sending on Hedwig, to examine for latent fingerprints. He still hadn't sent that letter, he should do that along with his new report for Mustang.

\---

Edward was one of the first to snatch a gold coin from Hermione the next morning at breakfast. He held the Galleon with his gloved hands, narrowing his eyes. "You're _sure_ they're fake?"

"Positive, Edward." She pointed to the numbers on the side. "Harry has the 'main' coin, and so when he changes the date on his coin the rest of them will turn hot so you'll notice-"

"How hot?"

"Not hot enough to burn through your pants, that's for sure."

\---

The Alchemy courses were going much better, now that most of the students had gotten a hold of the basic properties and elements.

He still had to watch for Seamus' flames and the twin's explosions, though.

That reminded him, he _still_ needed to write to the Colonel about techniques of flame alchemy, in order for Seamus to progress further.

So many things to do.

\---

One thing that got on Edward's nerves more than anything else was _quidditch._ He did not understand the joy of flying around on a measly stick, nor did he relish in throwing a heavy ball through a hoop countless times.

They were drawing closer to the Quidditch Cup and Ed was having absolutely _none of it_ , he would _not_ excuse Harry and Ron from their Alchemy homework because of it.

Of course, Ed was not exempt from the horrors of Quidditch himself.

In the evening, he had been summoned to McGonagall's office.

"Come in."

"It's late, Madam."

"Please, I've told you, call me Minerva. And yes-I agree, it's rather late." She tapped a silver and emerald contraption on her desk. Edward didn't think he'd ever understand all the objects of the wizarding world. "Do you have other matters to attend to?"

"Yes, I do. I have papers to mark."

She raised an eyebrow. "I can only hope that my students grow to have such values as you do."

"Don't start with that. What did you call me for?"

McGonagall pointed behind Ed, to where the Quidditch Cup sat in its polished glory. "What do you know of the Quidditch Cup, Edward?"

"I know it's a pointless sport that Misters Potter and Weasley are absolutely fixated on."

A corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Careful what you say, Mister Elric. I'm afraid I'm a fan of the sport myself."

Edward groaned. "And?"

" _And_ , I would like you to attend the Quidditch Match tomorrow."

"No. I don't want to."

If roles were changed and altered, if Edward did not join the military, if he wasn't so _sad_ , if his years hadn't been robbed of his youth, maybe McGonagall would have raised her voice at him. She might have tried to intimidate him.

But his eyes were not scared of McGonagall.

"Why is that?"

"I have work to do. Military reports. Papers. You know."

"So much work you can't even spare a relaxing morning to watch Quidditch?"

"Quidditch isn't relaxing, nor is it fit for mornings, Madam-I mean, _Minerva_."

Edward Elric might have been a double amputee, he might have been the youngest to ever join the Amestrian military, he might be a genius, but Minerva McGonagall was a witch.

He agreed to go to the Quidditch match.

—-

Ron looked _absolutely dreadful_. His eyes were bloodshot, and while his scarlet hair usually retained some of its messy volume, today it was matted and weak.

Ed wasn't helping matters. "You look like shit-er, I mean, you look _tired_ " he said hastily. "It's just a Quidditch game, right? I thought you and Harry were fine on broomsticks."

"It's not the broomsticks, mate" Harry said grimly. "It's the Slytherins that we're having trouble with."

"Can't you just-" Ed made a strangling motion with his hands. "-Give them a little shake?"

"I'd love to visit Amestris, Edward, I'd love to know who taught you."

" _That's not the point_! Ron looked between Harry and Ed. "It's just-" he swallowed. "-this is my first game, alright? Just a bit...shaken up. It'll pass." He was trying to convince himself more than the others. 

Edward grabbed quite a number of muffins and as he began to shove them in his mouth in a rather gross fashion Ron could only stare at him in wonder while clutching his stomach. "I'd love to have an appetite right now, Ed." He let his head fall against the table. " _Oh,_ I can't eat _anything_."

"Eh. I think you'll be fine. You seemed pretty happy when you were practicing the other day." No one misses the tone of jealousy in Ed's tone, but before Ron or Harry or even Hermione can confront him, Quidditch Captain Angelina Johnson gives them a look that clearly means _get the hell over here or I'll make you._

Truth to be told, Edward Elric was a lonely person. Losing two limbs and being the youngest at one's job could do that to someone. He desperately wanted to share joy and experiences with colleagues and acquaintances, but he had been driven worlds apart, the day he and Alphonse had chosen to commit a taboo. 

He walked down to the stands with Hermione and Luna, and they were joined by Neville and Ginny soon after. "...Unique hat, Miss Lovegood."

"Thank you, Professor Elric" Luna said seriously, brushing the brim of her lion-headed hat. "I'm delighted at your taste."

Luna Lovegood was one of the stranger students. Not bad, just strange. She seemed inattentive and distracted but nonetheless she answered all her questions right, not to mention it seemed suspicious to Edward that she excelled so much at Alchemy. 

Indeed, Luna had been the first of her class to finally transmute a cube of silver into a petite turtle charm. Ed had pocketed the little charm when she'd first transmuted it, as he had been surprised at the degree of detail it had possessed. 

"Say, Mister Longbottom?"

"Professor?"

Ed leaned back in his seat. The angle of the seats reminded him of watching plays back in Resembool, which were usually more poorly performed than average. "I'm not too knowledgable about Kidditch. Tell me a little about the sport."

"First of all, it's called _Quidditch_ , sir." Neville's normally meek tone was replaced by mild reproachfulness as he told Edward what he supposed to be public knowledge. "There's seven players on each team..."

Edward continued asking more and more questions, and Neville answered all of them with kind patience interrupted by the occasional roar of Luna's bizarre hat and Ginny's cheers. 

"Huh-" Ed craned his head to look at the Slytherins. "-what's that sound? Is it...cheering?"

Neville and Luna both turned their heads to see what Ed was talking about, while Hermione was engrossed in her textbook. "The Slytherins?"

"Yeah, I heard them saying something-"

They heard Lee Jordan's voice boom around the stadium. “— Dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?”

And with a pause, the Slytherins started chanting as loud as they could. 

_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING, HE CANNOT BLOCK A SINGLE RING, THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING: WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

_WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,_

_HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN, WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN, WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

“— and Alicia passes back to Angelina!” Lee shouted, as soon as he figured out the Slytherins were up to no good. “Come on now, Angelina — looks like she’s got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . .”

The Slytherin Keeper had saved the quaffle and the game continued, though there was a considerable damper in the Gryffindor's spirits. 

"That's against the rules, isn't it?" Edward smoothed back his blond hair. "You can't just scream those things!"

"McGonagall's not happy about it either, mate" Neville said grimly, pointing to Professor McGonagall's sour face. "But there's no rules barring it, so be it."

Edward clutched the sides of his seats so hard he thought he might have crushed it with his automail hand. " _Bastards_!" The game was turning worse and worse for Ron, and his flame-red face was visible to them in the stands. 

_WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING . . ._

“— and Pucey’s dodged Alicia again, and he’s heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!”

All the Gryffindors watched with bated breath, and they all let it out in defeated unison when it sailed through the hoop. 

_THAT’S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING: WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

Edward looked to Neville for reassurance. "It's only twenty-nothing, right? A comeback should be easy!"

Neville leaned heavily on the stand supports. "It's not just the points, Ed. It's the _value_. Ron's lost his footing."

“— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she’s past Warrington, she’s heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It’s forty-ten, forty- ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle. . . .”

Neville and Ginny cheered extra loud, while Luna's lion head certainly made a unique roar. Ed smiled, something he would never thought he would do while watching a Quidditch game. 

“— Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Mon- tague back to Pucey — Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good — I mean bad — Bell’s hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it’s Pucey in possession again . . .”

"This game isn't looking the best-"

"Hold your tongue, Ed!" Neville hooted and pointed up, above where the Chasers were. "Watch Harry! I think he's seen the snitch!"

Harry dived down at almost a vertical angle, but even that was not enough to deter Draco Malfoy from tailing him until they were right beside each other. 

Edward himself did not see the moment when Harry caught the snitch, he simply heard the roar of Gryffindors as they cheered. 

Then a blunger slammed into Harry's back, knocking him face-first into the ground. 

They watched as Madam Hooch ran over to check on Harry, while Neville punched his fist into the air and Luna had her trademark smile on her face. Even Hermione was beaming, with her finished book in her lap. 

Neville glanced at Ed. "Exciting, am I right?"

"Oh, certainly. But I'm not allowing for more extensions on your Alchemy work, if that's-" he caught sight of Draco stomping towards Harry's team. "Hold on, Neville. I have a bad feeling about this."

\---

"Harry! How's your back? It was that thug, Crabbe,” said Angelina angrily. “He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you’d got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!”

Harry heard a snort from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by; white-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.

“Saved Weasley’s neck, haven’t you?” he said to Harry. “I’ve never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin. . . . Did you like my lyrics, Potter?”

Harry did not answer; he turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in tri- umph, all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and was making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

“We wanted to write another couple of verses!” Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. “But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see —”

“Talk about sour grapes,” said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.

“— we couldn’t fit in useless loser either — for his father, you know —”

Fred and George had realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry’s hand they stiffened, looking around at Malfoy.

“Leave it,” said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. “Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he’s just sore he lost, the jumped-up little —”

“— but you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?” said Malfoy, sneering. “Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys’ hovel smells okay —”

Harry grabbed hold of George; meanwhile it was taking the com- bined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.

“Or perhaps,” said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, “you can re- member what your mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it —”

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had com- pletely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach —

“Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !”

He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care

\---

Neville looked at Luna. 

"Where did Ed go?"

\---

Edward leapt out of the stands and barely winced as his metal leg absorbed most of the impact, he started sprinted towards Harry and George and Draco who were fighting in a tangled heap. 

He pushed aside Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, then swerved around Alicia Spinnet, before launching himself at the three boys fighting. 

Although Edward Elric was short, he was definitely not lacking in strength. A few well-placed punches (they may or may not have been with his metal hand) and soon he had George and Harry's shirt collars clenched around one hand and Draco's around another. 

"Ease up, Harry, George-"

"He insulted my family!"

Ed let them get an eyeful of Draco's bloody face. "He's been beaten up for it. Though if we were back in Amestris-" he sent a disdainful glance towards Draco. "-I might give you a run for your money."

" _HARRY POTTER! GEORGE WEASLEY!"_

Edward dropped his hold on Harry and George as Madam Hooch strode across the field, her face red and wand brandished. 

“I’ve never seen behavior like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House’s office! Go! Now!” She turned back to see Ed still holding Draco like some limp creature. "And let go of Mr. Malfoy's collar, Professor Elric. It will not do you good if he suffocates."

Hermione, Luna, and Neville met him at the edge of the Quidditch field. "You're absolutely mad, Ed! You jumped all the way down to the field?" Neville shook his head in amazement. "Stupid, really. But brilliant."

"Who are you calling stupid?" Ed saw the backs of Harry and George as they marched to McGonagall's office. "Huh. I can't believe I didn't start the fight."

"That's not a good thing, Ed!"

\---

Ed crumped up the paper and threw it into the trash can. 

Perhaps one of the things he despised the most about his automail arm was his _writing_. It was painstaking, to either write with his left hand or try to regulate the weight on his right. It seemed Hogwarts was short on typewriters. 

He grabbed another sheet of paper, and began to write once more. 

_Hey Alphonse._

_It's your big brother._

_Teaching is weird here. The kids are weird. You know what? Everything is weird here. Even the sports. I watched a "Quidditch" match. They fly up in the air and throw balls around through hoops. I think you'd get sick from watching them fly too much._

_I have an owl if you haven't noticed already. I named him Resembool, but that seemed like such a mouthful so I usually call him Bool. I hope you like him._

_There's so much going on here, and I haven't been able to find anything Alchemy-related that's actually useful._

_Tell Hawkeye and Armstrong hi, and tell Mustang to hurry up with whatever research he's doing._

_I'll try to have you visit soon. I think I can get McGonagall to agree._

_Love, Ed._

_P.S. tell Winry that I haven't broken my automail yet._

As Ed sealed up the letter and was about to send off Bool, he spotted a few footprints lining the edge of the grounds, at the nearby hut. 

One of the pairs of footprints had a Quidditch-boot print. 

How strange. 

\---

The next morning, as Edward made his way downstairs he was met with a terrifyingly large burly bearded man at the teacher's table. 

"Ah! Ed!" Harry gestured to the tall person. "This is Hagrid, our usual Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

Edward Elric would _not_ back down. He thrust out a dapper white-gloved hand and said in his most professional voice, "Edward Elric. Fullmetal Alchemist. Nice to meet you, sir."

It was a comical sight, the way Ed's hand was completely covered by Hagrid's oven-mitt sized ones, and he didn't think he could feel his arm by the time Hagrid was done shaking it. " _Sir_! Hagrid's just fine, no need to call me sir, eh?"

"Very well." This Hagrid, he was a nice fellow, awfully kind. Edward liked him, or perhaps he just reminded him of Major Armstrong. 

"Ed! You've got mail!" Sure enough, when Ed jerked his head up his owl Resembool almost smacked into him. Edward rubbed his face ruefully, while Bool hooted with amusement (Ed didn't know owls could do that). 

Usually, Ed's mail was written in Amestrian, and thus no one really knew what he was up to. However, other than a single letter, there was another envelope written in English. 

_To Mister Edward Elric, Great Hall, Hogwarts._

Ed opened the letter, and it was written in Arthur Weasley's messy script. 

_Good morning, Edward._

_I'm rather embarrassed as I write this, as the job I am asking you to assist me on is too dangerous for someone of your age. Unfortunately, this job is probably the one that you're best fitted to, emphasizing on your skills in the military._

_The day after tomorrow, I am to patrol the area of a classified weapon. I ask that you be my partner and such, patrol it with me. I only ask for one night, as Tonks has been working overtime and I wish to give her less work._

_The patrol will be at the Ministry, in the Department of Mysteries. It shouldn't be dangerous._

_It pains me that you're only sixteen and Molly is certainly cross about it, but you're the only person who has both the capability and the availability._

_You can come to Grimmauld place tomorrow in order to get ready for the patrol. I have talked to McGonagall and Dumbledore._

_-Arthur Weasley_

"Hey, Ron?" Edward showed the tall redhead the letter. "D'you know what your father is asking about?"

Ron quickly scanned the letter. "Not a clue, Ed. But does this mean class is cancelled tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow and the day after, yes."

Harry sighed. "Just a few more days until Christmas."

"What's Christmas?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a personal head canon that Luna Lovegood's mother was an alchemist who accidentally rebounded upon herself and died from her injuries. I like to think that she passed some sort of alchemy skills onto her daughter. 
> 
> As you can see, Ed's going to go with Arthur Weasley to...you know. The Department of Mysteries. I wonder what's going to happen @_@ 
> 
> I had fun writing Alphonse's letter. He's such a sweet kid!
> 
> As always, feel free to comment below! They make me so happy!
> 
> Thank you for reading^^


	17. Veritaserum and Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through kind of a lot this month but I'm still glad I updated at least once in November. I want to upload a chapter before Christmas so we'll see how that works. Sorry this chapter is more of a fluff chapter, not much action going on. I want to make a really good chapter 18 next time, though. 
> 
> BTW, a lovely person offered to translate Alchemist in the Order into Russian, so if you want to read that, the link is at the bottom of this page <3

Edward clapped both hands over his ears, wincing when his automail arm hit his head with a bit too much force. "Alright! I get it! Christmas is some random holiday where you sing and buy each other stuff! Big deal!"

Ron looked like he would explode. His cheeks were redder than his hair. "But-you're missing the point! Christmas! _Christmas_! God, you _never_ heard of it?" He acted like he might have a stroke. "Blimey! No Christmas! What kind of place do you even _come from_?"

Ed shared a grim smile. He wasn't about to drop the bomb that his country might be blown up in half a year. "A...place foreign to you Brits."

Harry stifled a yawn as he and Hermione discussed the homework given to them.

Was the Golden Trio more tired than usual? Dark circles stood out in stark contrast with Ron's pale skin, and Hermione seemed to be nodding off as she spoke. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't even trying to hide it and he had lain his head on the table of the Great Hall.

Had they been up to something? Edward remembered the strange footprints in the snow, outside of Hagrid's house.

It was Sunday, and Harry and Ron planned to use it to finish their homework. Ed was also planning, as he needed to see Arthur Weasley tomorrow. "What does your dad do at the Ministry, Ron?"

Ron's face coloured even more, if that was possible. "He...does stuff...with muggles" he started off vaguely. "Something about building muggle artifacts. You know?" He didn't seem too fond of the topic.

"Huh. That's weird. He's not asking me for any artifacts. I just need to patrol this spot with him. Well-" Edward tucked the letter into his breast pocket. "-not too bad, right?"

"Guess so."

Ed stood up. "I should be packing now. Class is cancelled for the next few days, and we'll continue after the winter break." He said 'winter break' with great caution, as if he still didn't believe it existed. "And just so you know-" he lowered his voice around the hubbub in the Great Hall. "-All three of you did well."

\---

If Edward Elric didn't know better, he might have hurled his ink bottle across the room. The damned thing simply didn't open, and even with all his automail might, Ed couldn't open it. He opted to trash it instead.

The room looked obviously lived in. His bedsheets were strewn around, and clothes lay everywhere. Edward was thankful his little brother did not see the mess.

It was easier to shove everything into the suitcase rather than take the time to fold out everything, so that was exactly what the Fullmetal Alchemist did. Ed placed Alphonse's letters with greater care than anything else in the front pocket of his coat.

In a dim part of his mind, he recalled something Mustang had been rambling about, the first few days when Edward arrived at Central city.

_"A soldier must be disciplined, more so than the state you are in right now, Edward. You must be organized to the point of unity, and you must disappear when needed."_

First thing's first. Tidying the bed.

Edward winced slightly, as he dragged the bed covers to their respective corners of the mattress. His auto mail seemed to be weighing him down somehow. It hadn't happened before. He should look into that, later.

There was a knock at the door. Was it one of his students? Did he forget to tell the rest of them that class was cancelled?

Ed would have taken a nervous student over the short ugly lady otherwise known as Dolores Jane Umbridge, standing in front of him with a toady smile and a prim bow on her small head. "Good morning, Professor Elric. I noticed you haven't hosted any classes today?" Her piggy eyes roved over him. "You seem to be in peak health."

The Fullmetal Alchemist hid a grimace. He briefly thought about showing off his auto mail limbs, if only for shock appeal. "I've been... _summoned_ to patrol an area." He had a gut feeling that any information given to Umbridge would be used against him.

"Oh? Would you be so kind to tell me what corporation was bold enough to assist the help of a Hogwarts professor?"

Ed rocked back on his heels, trying to look away from her detestable pink outfit. "Eh. It's just one night. I'll be back after winter break, don't you worry your head off, _Dolores_."

Umbridge's face seemed to get pinker until it matched her outfit. Ed wondered how she didn't suffocate in it. "Would you like a break in my office? I have tea" she added, like that was going to make Ed trust her.

"I would _love_ to have tea with you Professor, but I'm afraid I still need to finish packing." He sent a glance around his messy room, hoping she would get the hint to leave.

Unfortunately, Dolores Umbridge was used to getting her way. She pulled out her wand, and Edward stumbled back. _She wouldn't try to hex me here, would she_? But no, Umbridge made no move against him. Rather, she waved her wand, muttered a spell, and Ed's clothes flew through the way, magically folding themselves and landing in Ed's suitcase.

"There you go, Mister Elric. All neatly placed in your bag." Umbridge simpered. "Tea?"

With a sigh, the Fullmetal Alchemist straightened his back. "I guess."

He did not feel comfortable walking behind Dolores down the hallways, nor did he feel less pressured when she opened the door to her office. In fact, he thought he might throw up at the sheer amount of pink lace and those hideous cats, similar to that weird black and white pet that Mei Chang loved. "Please, take a seat." He did, on the chair in front of her. He felt only more unsafe, the more time he spent alone with Umbridge.

Edward was no stranger to spies in the government. Why, the leader of Amestris was a Homunculi. But he was extremely unaccustomed to Dolores Jane Umbridge and her antics. Truthfully speaking, Edward Elric was scared of the wizarding world. He could not defend himself as easily as he had done in Amestris.

"Tea? Water? Milk?"

"Nothing, thanks. I'm not thirsty." He would die before he drunk something Umbridge concocted. And the thought of milk made his stomach turn.

"Come on, Edward, you must have _something_." As if sensing his thoughts, the toady-looking woman smiled devilishly. "Perhaps some milk, for a growing boy?"

" _No milk, thank you_ " Edward ground his teeth together, and he clenched his hands into fists in his lap. He'd never cared much for tea either, but he would be damned if he was going to drink milk.

" _Hem hem,_ I guess tea will do. By any chance, do you fancy a certain kind?"

—-

_Edward pulled Alphonse's hand as tightly as he could and pulled back, but his little brother would not budge. "Ed, I'm still stuck!" There was a growing sense of unease in Alphonse's voice as his foot remained tangled with the pumpkin vines and tendrils. Their mother was in the house, doing laundry, and the brothers were supposed to be picking apples, but Alphonse had gotten stuck in the pumpkin patch._

_There wasn't a knife near them. Ed crouched down to peer closer, and he tried using his arms to pry the vines sideways so they would loosen but they wouldn't budge. He was, after all, only six._

_"Well, it's technically your fault" Edward said, as he sat down beside Alphonse. "You weren't supposed to go to the pumpkin patch" he flicked his little brother on the forehead for extra measure._

_Tears started forming at the corners of Alphonse's eyes and he brushed them away. "You're so mean!" His voice quavered, and his cheeks reddened. Edward held Alphonse's hand. "Hey, I'm still sitting here with you!"_

_But they didn't need to argue for too long, because soon after, Trisha Elric found them after she went outside with Winry behind her. "Boys! What are you doing? I thought I told you to pick the apples?"_

_"Alphonse's foot is stuck in the pumpkin vines" Edward explained. All it took was a quick 'snip' from his mother's scissors and Alphonse was free. "Thanks, mom." He cast a curious eye to Winry. "What's Winry doing here?"_

_"Granny Rockbell made pumpkin spice cider!" Winry waved towards the house. "I put it on the table in the kitchen."_

_"Cider!" Alphonse and Edward ran towards the house as fast as they could._

_—-_

Ed cleared his throat. "You don't happen to have cider, do you?"

Umbridge's eyes widened, and not in a good way. "Cider, you say? Of course I have cider, what sort of host would I be if I couldn't even come up with my guests favorite drinks?" And soon she went, bustling in the back of her office.

Even though he tried to hide it, Edward couldn't keep his eyes off of the disgustingly cute little kittens that pranced around in the little portraits nailed to the wall, and even though McGonagall had assured him multiple times that no souls were poured into these moving pictures Ed could not stop the feeling of revulsion that grew inside of him the more he stared at the adorable cats.

"Cider, Edward" Umbridge said warmly, sliding a pink teacup across the table. "Drink up, will you? Christmas is just around the corner, wouldn't want you getting a cold anytime soon."

_Christmas._

_I guess even old hags that look like toads celebrate Christmas._

_To be honest, I still don't see the appeal of it._

Umbridge made a loud coughing noise as to clear her throat. She made a big show of tipping her own teacup back and drinking her tea. "Well? Your cider's going to go cold soon." She seemed extremely fixated on watching Ed drink his cider, for some weird reason.

Feeling even more stubborn, Edward had to force his hand to curl around the handle of his cup and, staring Umbridge in the eye, he tilted his cup back.

—-

_"Idiot!"_

_A hand shot out, slapping the cup from Edward. It fell to the floor with a crash, separating into shards._

_Mustang rubbed his face. "Let me say this again." He pointed at the broken cup on the floor that he'd smashed. "I said,_ do not drink _the contents of that cup."_

_Ed snarled, and his left hand curled into a fist, while his new automail arm hung stiffly beside him. It had rained recently, and he still wasn't too used to the damp air in Central City. It had been a little more than a year since he had gotten fitted with automail limbs and a few days since he'd first gone to Central City._

_Sometimes, Mustang would have to look twice at Edward Elric. He treated the boy like he was an adult. That wasn't a bad thing, per se, but it definitely reminded Roy of how crazy he'd been when he was twelve._

_"Be wary of everything offered to you that isn't checked by any security. Anything that can be tainted or poisoned, including food, drink, jewellery, and cash."_

_"Cash? How can bills be poisoned?"_

_Mustang rubbed his gloves together. "A spray, or some sort of ointment that is toxic after drying. It's fairly simple to sneak poisonous liquids into fake hollow jewels, but it's actually pretty difficult to spot many poisons in food and drinks. Some things are absolutely colourless and odourless, and can only be identified after a very long process."_

_Edward frowned. He did not know that this was what lackeys of the government had to go through. "So, we don't eat on missions?"_

_"Of course not. Many of us bring our own flasks, but a short mission doesn't require any food at all."_

_"Ah. Okay."_

_—-_

The liquid was hot against Ed's closed lips, and he forced his mouth to stay closed. Umbridge was watching him with rapt attention, strange for such a simple action like drinking tea.

He placed the cup back on the table; the liquid inside of it was no more, no less than it was originally. "Sweet" he said flatly.

Umbridge's face twisted into a frown, and she looked more intimidating. "You like it?" Her tone was vaguely surprised.

"Yep. Loved it."

"Tell me where Sirius Black is."

"I-sorry?" The sudden change of topic threw Edward off guard. He tapped his foot impatiently. He was supposed to be meeting Arthur Weasley later, and he did not want to be caught late. "I mean, no. I don't know where Sirius Black is."

"Where is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Ed shifted in his seat; there was a slight _creak_ as his automail leg changed positions. "I don't know what that is, Miss." He was beginning to have his own theories about what was in the cup. Probably some sort of truth potion, and he was a hundred times more grateful for Mustangs tutelage.

"Is that so?" Umbridge's voice had gone dangerously high, and the kittens in the portraits on her wall were none the wiser. The High Inquisitor stared at Ed a little bit more, and the Fullmetal Alchemist was feeling more uneasy by the minute as waxy brown eyes met wide golden ones.

She leaned back in her seat, and Edward speculated that if the little woman leaned back any further, she might topple over. He hoped she would. "You may go then, Mister Elric. Happy Holidays."

Ed made sure to slam the door with more force than usual as he stomped back to his room and snatched his belongings. The sooner he was gone, the better.

Den, the dog in the portrait on Ed's bedroom door, barked as he walked past. Edward walked down the stairs quickly and he swore there was a weak pain in his shoulder and thigh, where flesh ended and automail began. Winry's automail was top-notch and there shouldn't have been any discomfort at all, but Ed resolved to look into his later.

"Wait! Elric!" He turned, to see McGonagall rushing towards him, her skirt billowing behind her. She brandished her wand. "You can't just leave Hogwarts like that, Edward-"

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Maybe Edward was a tad too defensive, but he was getting tired of getting his appearance made fun of. He straightened his back, though it didn't do any wonders for his height as McGonagall was simply much taller than him.

"It's not your clothes, Elric-you can't simply leave Hogwarts unless you go by station, or you could Apparate outside of the school grounds. But the station isn't running this time of the year, and Hogsmeade is too busy getting ready for the holidays."

"..Oh, I never thought of that." He hadn't, really. He wondered what he would have done if McGonagall hadn't caught up with him. He was grateful she did, for it saved him a lot of time. "You know about Mister Weasley asking me for help, then?"

McGonagall frowned. "I do. I don't know exactly why he wanted you to patrol when Shacklebolt could do it, but no matter, he promised you would only be away for a day or two before the holidays, correct?"

"Yep. So are you taking me to Grimmauld Plcae?"

"That's exactly the case." Out of nowhere, she conjured a fluffy hat and overcoat. She led him out of the castle and they were trooping across the field, when they spotted Hagrid on the other side, a little far from his hut. 

"Wait a minute. Minerva?"

"Ed? What's the problem?" He'd stopped in his tracks and was staring at the great beasts behind Hagrid, the same animals he'd seen when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts. Large beasts that were more bone than flesh, with black withered wings. "I saw those animals, they were pulling the fifth years carriages-"

"Oh. I was hoping you couldn't see them." McGonagall's voice had gone flat, and her lips were pressed together. "Well, anyways, better go now-"

"Why were you hoping I couldn't see them? Can certain people see them, while others can't?" Harry had been able to see them, but as far as Ed remembered, Ron and Hermione showed no reaction to the eerie creatures. 

McGonagall looked away from Edward while she answered. "Thestrals can only be seen by those who have seen death." But soon she was back to her usual brisk self. "Hagrid is probably getting the Thestrals ready for the fifth-years. Come on, now."

_Ah._

"O-Oh. Okay." He'd seen death, alright. 

Harry had, too. 

Now that Ed thought more about Harry Potter, the stranger the boys life was. Cursed with a lighting scar, by some evil wizard? He didn't even know the enemies name. He had been severely misinformed about his mission. 

He hoped Arthur Weasley was ready for the barrage of questions Edward had. 

\---

"Edward! Minerva! Glad you could make it!" Ed cringed under the sound of Mrs. Black's wails and shrieks that echoed around the old house. He was still feeling dizzy after Apparating with McGonagall, and all the noise didn't help his nausea.

"I need to go back now, Arthur. Sixth-year transfiguration class starts in twenty minutes." With a tip of her hat, Minerva McGonagall disappeared. 

"My patrol is only for the night, so you can make yourself at home here-wait, did you have lunch? Molly's just finished a lasagna, I'm sure she would be delighted to have you here-"

"You know, that sounds amazing, Mr. Weasley." Ed had still not gotten over his experience in Umbridge's office, and he was glad to enjoy some food that was definitely not poisoned in any way. 

"Arthur, was there someone at the door?" Mrs. Weasley called, from the hallway. 

"Molly, did you miss Edward?"

That lunch, Ed had never felt so stuffed. Mrs. Weasley had fawned over him the entire meal, giving him seconds and thirds and fourths and even a fifth bowl of steaming lasagna, to be topped off with an apple pie for dessert and juice to wash it all down. 

Edward finished his third slice of pie. "Say, where's Sirius? And Remus? And Tonks?" He tried to remember all the other people that were at the house in the summer. The Weasley parents exchanged a glance. "Tonks, Kingsley, and Mad-Eye are doing their jobs in the Ministry. Remus...is on a mission. Sirius...in his room" Molly said awkwardly, but she hid it by heaping a serving of lasagna and a slice of pie onto a plate. "Say, could you give this to him? He's not in the best mood lately, I'm sure my pie can cheer him up."

"Sure." He felt some trepidation as he went around the house, remembering the unpleasant Boggart that had attacked him before going to Hogwarts. But as he walked up the rotting stairs, he was not jumped by any supernatural creature. It seemed Molly had done a fine job of exterminating Grimmauld Place's inhabitants. He was just glad he didn't run into Kreature, the disgusting elf.

There was a door, scrawled with the word _Sirius_ on the front, that made Ed think it was his room. He knocked once, with no answer. There was a weird sound coming from inside, like a growl or a purr. Was Sirius fighting some sort of monster?

Edward knocked the door again, harder. "Oi. It's Ed. The Alchemist."

"Edward?" The door swung open, and Ed had to take a step back. Sirius Black was thinner and more gaunt than ever before, with bloodshot eyes and greasy hair that almost rivalled Snape. "You're back from Hogwarts? Does that mean-Harry-" Sirius looked around, as if Harry Potter might materialize out of nowhere. 

"Harry's not here, nor is Ron and Hermione, sir. It's just me. I'm helping Arthur on a patrol tonight."

" _You're_ helping Arthur? But you're a kid!" Sirius gripped his doorframe. "Damn, I could've stepped in for you, Ed, if I was allowed to leave this goddamn place-"

"It's fine. I'm used to patrols. Molly told me to bring you a plate." He passed the lasagna and pie into Sirius' hands. "You wanna come in?"

"Into your room?"

"Yeah. I want you to meet Buckbeak." Sirius stepped aside, and Edward fought to keep a scream from erupting out of his throat. Instead, he shifted his feet, ready to fight or run if necessary. " _What is that_?"

"Oh? You've never met a hippogriff before?" Sirius scratched Buckbeak behind the ears and the animal cooed like a pigeon. "Don't worry, Bucky's almost completely harmless. Just, er, kneel in front of him first. Don't break eye contact."

Gold eyes stared at yellow slits as Ed slowly bent down, carefully keeping his metal arm slightly in front of him, if a problem were to arise. But sure enough, Buckbeak bent his own head and let Edward slowly pat him. "Huh."

There were massive wings attached to both sides of Buckbeak and every so often they stretched, wrinkling the curtains near it along with random newspapers on the floor. "So...how'd you get this hippogriff?"

Sirius chuckled. "That's a long story. But I'm glad he's with me now." 

"Okay." Edward edged towards the door. "If you don't mind, I-"

"Could you stay?" At Ed's expression, Sirius backtracked. "Sorry. I'm just...a little frustrated at the moment."

"Oh. No, that's fine. I can stay if you want." He closed the door and sat down, across from Sirius and Buckbeak. "Did you want to discuss something?"

"You're fifteen, right?"

"Yeah." Edward shuffled farther away from Sirius as Buckbeak drew closer. Sirius sighed heavily. "I'm not going to ask you about what you did at Hogwarts. McGonagall said that you..taught something. But that's beside the point." Sirius' grey eyes seemed to accentuate his eyeballs. "I think you're a little too old Ed, in your heart. You're growing old too quickly."

"I know." Ed laced his hands together. He was still wearing his white gloves, but in his eyes they seemed stained with blood. "I know" he repeated. "There's a lot of things kids my age are doing, that I know I'm missing out on. I'm okay with that, though." He forced a small smile. "My...little brother, he's always telling me to loosen up and relax. But I'm doing a lot of stuff for him. I can't just stop now." He left the room with the door open. 

\---

Harry was absolutely furious. "That Umbridge! First, she insults Hagrid, then she gives me _detention_?" Ron nodded along with him. "God, I can't believe we used to complain about Hagrid" he said morosely. 

"Hagrid _can't_ be sacked" Harry said, desperately. "He's been around the school for ages! Everyone knows him! Umbridge can't just-" he mimed writing down notes. "-get rid of him like that!"

"Umbridge can do a lot more than you think" Hermione agreed darkly, just before the Slytherins broke out into another chorus of ' _Weasley is Our King'_

\---

The Black Family tree sure was something. It spanned centuries and was in better condition than Ed would think such an old tapestry would be in. He'd glanced at it in the summer, but there hadn't been much time to analyze it. 

He didn't have a family tree. He didn't know who his grandparents were. It was just Hohenheim, his mother, his brother, and him. Until his father had left. Then it was just his mother and her sons. He didn't really think too much of it. Winry had a grandmother, he didn't. Not much to cry about if he didn't know what he missed. 

"Edward, I'm getting ready, we're going out soon."

"Yeah, good with me." He'd changed into Ron's old clothes in an effort to be less conspicuous in the Ministry but the redhead was quite a bit taller than Ed, and his sleeves were a little longer than he would have liked. Oh well. But once he had a coat over his clothes it didn't really matter what he wore. 

Just a normal patrol, right? He'd done countless rounds like these with Mustang and Hawkeye. 

Nothing could go wrong, in fact. 

Right?

"Okay, Ed. Let's go."

"Are we going around the whole Ministry?"

"No, just a small department, the Department of Mysteries."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter, it was more of an insight towards Ed more than anything in my opinion but I hope you still enjoyed it :3
> 
> **My Tumblr: Send me asks and theories and stuff**


	18. God, It Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird thing: I barely wrote anything for almost two months, and then a few days ago I just wrote everything else with a huge burst of energy. 
> 
> But anyways, yes, here it is, the very awaited moment :) hope you guys like it! There's not much else for me to say here, but this is a big moving point in the story, as it mentions a few people from Amestris

Edward walked behind Arthur Weasley, who was clearly accustomed to the twisting hallways and corridors in the Ministry of Magic. The tip of his wand was glowing like a bright lantern. "The Department of Mysteries is, as the title hints, full of mysteries. They deal in magic and supernaturals that most witches and wizards are afraid of."

 _Something that scares witches and wizards?_ Ed hated to imagine horrors that would scare magic users.

"We'll take the lift downstairs." Arthur stepped into the elevator, just as a swarm of enchanted airplanes flew out. They flitted around him and Ed's head for a few seconds, before going off to find their respective owners.

There was no one else; anyone with any sense of self-preservation would have gone home long ago. Edward scuffed his boots against the hard linoleum floor, a tad more nervous than he thought he should have been. "You're sure it's just a patrol, right?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have asked you if it was anything more dangerous." Arthur hummed a tune to himself off-key. "Really, asking you to patrol this with me is a stretch too. Someone like you should fuss more about finding a date than anything else."

"Oh..." Ed tugged the collar of his shirt; it had gotten uncomfortably hot. "Uh, it's a bit too late for that, sir." He hadn't told anyone in London yet about his past, nor his true motives surrounding the Philosophers Stone.

Well, he wasn't too late on what Arthur had suggested. He thought of Winry. Yeah, she was very cool. Very nice, very smart. And pretty-he caught himself. Winry, the same Winry that threw a wrench at him every chance she got? Whatever.

"Anyways, sorry to bore you. We'll be at the Department soon."

Arthur Weasley was a rather bashful man. He seemed to become embarrassed after talking to Edward for a few minutes, and he didn't like talking too much about himself.

"How big is the department? Are we circling around the whole place?" Edward inquired, as they stepped off the lift into a dark hallway.

Arthur shook his head. "Heavens, no. I don't even know how big the perimeters are. We're just guarding the door right there-" and down the hall there was, not one door, but multiple ones, all of them exactly the same size and colour. "-I mean, the one at the very end."

"Is this someone's room? Some official we need to protect?" Edward stretched a hand towards the door handle, before Mr. Weasley slapped it away. "Nope. No one would every want to live here; it's dangerous. Try not to touch anything, will you?"

—-

Edward Elric is too good at this job.

He isn't bored (Arthur sure is). He isn't dozing off (Arthur just wants to sleep). He stands with a straight back at attention, and his hands never touch the doors, after Arthur chides him once.

He is used to taking orders, used to late-night patrols, and all too disciplined for a sixteen year old boy to be.

Arthur thinks, when this is all over, he would like to have a long talk with Edward Elric about his life in the military.

—-

It was very boring.

All they do is walk around in a small circle, maybe occasionally pause to stretch. The doors don't look any less menacing, but Edward still hasn't touched the doors.

The only sounds are when Ed scuffs his boots against the hard floor when he's bored. "Say, Mr. Weasley, what's the deal with Potter?"

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley sounds slightly disoriented, as if Edward had woken him up. "Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. I've heard a lot of stuff about him." Edward's hands (well, technically, only his left hand) have gotten a little sweaty, and he takes off one of his gloves and wipes it down. It's a miracle that his automail has held up for so long but he hasn't gotten into any fights yet, which he supposes is a good thing.

"Who's told you what about Harry?" Mr. Weasley's voice has become more measured, more probing. Edward slips his glove back on. "The students talk, Arthur. They call him the Chosen One. They stay away from him. Some call him mad."

Arthur let out a sigh. "Gossip and students go together, hand in hand. Don't listen to most of them."

"No. I'm not listening to them. I'm waiting for someone to tell me the truth before I make my own conclusions." Edward straightened up, and even though was was no where close to Mr Weasley's height, he liked to think that he appeared taller.

"Listen carefully to me, Edward..."

—-

"What. The. Hell?" Half an hour had passed, but it felt like a second. Mr. Weasley and just unloaded to him not only Harry Potter's tragic past, but the high stakes surrounding the first Wizarding War, and Cedric Diggory's death last year. Of course, Arthur didn't shy away from adding a bunch of smaller stories that snowballed into a splitting headache.

"Sorry, Ed, I knew it would be an earful, but there really was no way that I could say it-"

"No, I'm not really mad about how long it was. It's just..hard to process." Edward sat down in the middle of the hallway; he and Mr. Weasley had been the only people in the building for hours. The only light came from the small lanterns hung on the ceilings, which cast shadows all around.

Edward stared at Arthur. "So...all of this... it's been carefully planned? For decades?"

"More or less. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is notorious for being patient, and waiting for the exact time to strike." Mr. Weasley stared at the ground. "After time, a lot of wizards get antsy, or they lose their nerve. It was the first one for my brother-in-laws. Gideon and Fabian. They were amazing, mind you, but five Death Eaters against them...it was a heroic effort."

"Sorry for your loss" Edward said automatically. When he was reeling from the death of his mother and his brother's loss of body, that was all anyone would say. He hated it, but now that he was that person, he found that there was nothing else to say.

"It's fine. It was a long time ago."

The two stay in silence for a while, and then Ed tries to say something else. "Mr. Weasley..."

But Arthur has fallen asleep. His snores echo down the empty hallway, and Edward thinks the man deserves the rest right now; they haven't run into any dangers.

And then, he hears a hissing noise.

It gets louder, like it's coming closer, except it's way too loud for a regular snake. It sounds like it's been put through a speaker; the sound is reverberating all around him. "Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley is still asleep.

And then, out of the darkness, emerges a humongous serpent with yellow-green eyes.

He has just enough time to grab Mr. Weasley and shove him out of the way, as the snake strikes.

Edward claps his hands and brings them down onto the ground, like he's done a hundred times. Just like clockwork, the stone floor roars up into a barrier, separating the snake from Ed and Mr. Weasley, who's just woken up, albeit somewhat groggily. "Wha-Ed?"

" _Arthur,_ you need to get out OF HERE!" Just as Edward finishes that sentence, the serpent smashes through the makeshift wall with surprising strength surpassing its already huge size; up close, the Fullmetal Alchemist can see drops of venom forming in their fangs. Unfortunately, Ed's never been one to back down from a fight.

In the blink of an eye, his right arm has transformed into a spike, and the ground around him has started to rumble. Arthur blinked disorientedly as he tried to make sense of the metal protruding out of Edward's arm. "Ed-"

" _MR. WEASLEY! THE SNAKE_!" Through the commotion, Edward had stepped away from the doorway at the end of the hall, and Arthur is the only thing separating the serpent from going past. Of course, that means Arthur's the main target. It dives past Ed and strikes at Mr. Weasley.

Edward should be accustomed to blood, but seeing it spurt out of Mr. Weasley's arm freezes him for a moment, and he can do nothing but gape at Arthur as he yells and tries to cast spells to fend the snake off but it seems intent on killing him and spells bounce off its skin.

Another clap of his hands on the ground creates cylindrical spirals that pierce into the snake's soft underbelly; it hisses in pain as a few of of the spikes find the gaps in the scales.

Of course, this is also when the serpent leaves Arthur bleeding out, and veers toward Ed.

The Fullmetal Alchemist has just enough time to think ' _Oh, shit_ -' and he raises his metal arm in front of his face, as the snake longest towards him. It's fangs dig into Ed's automail, and while it's trying to yank them out, he takes the chance to punch the snake in the eyes.

—-

Harry scrunched his forehead as he tossed in bed, eyes still closed and thoroughly immersed in his dream. There was not one, but two attackers-one with red hair and a blond one, the latter was putting up quite a fight; Harry could not process everything he saw, but he swore the person's arm seemed to be harder than usual, and maybe it was the dim lights, but the arm seemed...silver?

He gritted his teeth, as he felt one of his fangs loosen after trying to pry it from the automail. He kicked out a foot, as the short blond punched him in the eye; he could not get a good look at his face, it seemed so blurry....

—-

As the snake recoiled from the punch, its long body whipped back and forth, subsequently tripping Edward onto his back; he scrambled back as the serpent reared back up again, preparing to strike.

Things weren't looking the best. There was a bad feeling in his arm, it felt numb and on fire at the same time. A quick glance at the floor told him why; his metal hand to elbow area had been ripped off just seconds before and were in pieces on the ground, leaving only his upper arm still connected to his shoulder and chest.

Arthur was still alive; his harsh breathing was the only sign. Frantic, Edward took off his uniform coat and tried to use it to soak and stop the blood that was still pouring out of Mr. Weasley's arm. "Arthur, can you hear me? I need you to press here." His coat was quickly turning red, but it was the best they had to stop the blood for now. There was something trickling down Ed's face, he'd been hit against the wall earlier by the snake in an attempt to doge it.

The snake reared up again, and Edward decided ' _hell, why not_? _I've already lost an arm_.' He positioned himself on his side, and as the snake rushed towards him, he kicked the snake right between the eyes, and this gave him the chance to jump up and straddle the snake's back (it was more slippery than he thought). With only one arm to keep him balanced, he was about to let go, to land directly onto the ground, when his metal foot was caught by the snake.

—-

While he had managed to pull blood from the blond figure, some part of it remained stubbornly hard and stiff, and it took effort to crush the metal appendage in his mouth; what Harry presumed was the blond person's foot. It crunched and sparked, very unlike a regular limb.

—-

Edward could feel the wires and supports in his metal ankle break, one by one, as he hung upside-down from the snake. Sometime before, his hair had come loose.

He couldn't transmutate anything at the moment, he didn't have two hands to clap together.

But a soldier was never caught off guard. Mustang had drilled that into him, one of the first days in Central.

_Always carry a little something extra, something that will help you when your regular vices fail._

Ed yanked a short dagger out of his boot; while it was small, he'd made sure to sharpen the blade as much as he could. He raised it above his head and struck the snake through the mouth; the blood coming out of the snake almost blinded him as it let go of the Fullmetal Alchemist. He fell with a strange _crunch_ in his left arm but adrenaline stopped the feeling of pain (for now).

He'd forgotten about the fangs. As the snake flailed, trying to get the dagger out of it's pierced mouth, flecks of venom fell.

Onto Edward Elric's side. A side that was bloody and scratched.

One. Two. Three.

He screamed, loud. Adrenaline might have distracted him from a broken arm, but venom was another matter. He curled into a ball, and he couldn't even touch the wounded side. His automail leg was missing a foot, his right leg was spasming as the venom made its way down from his side, his right metal arm's forearm to hand had been ripped, and his left arm was broken.

Perfect, really.

—-

Harry's forehead felt like it on on fire, he wanted it gone, he wanted a way to get rid of the pain, he needed to be free...

"HARRY!"

Ron shook him awake, while Seamus, Dean, and Neville watched with wide eyes. "Oi, wake up, mate!"

—-

Edward crawled closer to Mr. Weasley. The man was still breathing, that was for sure, but it seemed extremely laborious for Arthur to inhale. At least he was better off than Ed.

He anticipated another attack, but something ceased in the snake; there was no murderous gleam in it's eyes, and Ed couldn't believe his eyes when it turned around, and it seemed to vanish into the darkness.

What had happened? Had the snake lost interest?

But no matter, there was something more important at the moment: he and Mr. Weasley both had venom in their systems, and they might bleed out faster.

Ed saw black spots in his eyes before he collapsed.

—-

"Ron, _your dad_ -" Harry grasped Ron's hands, making sure he understood. "Mr. Weasley-and Edward, I think, I'm not too sure but they had blond hair and they were short-please"

"My dad? Edward? Harry, I don't think-" Ron fell silent as his mind went through those words. "Wait a minute. Ed was supposed to be with my dad for something, right?"

"There was a snake-" Harry had to stop to catch his breath. " _Listen to me, Ron._ There was a snake, a huge one, your dad and Ed are in danger, they're gonna die-"

" _Die_?" Ron nodded to Neville. "Get McGonagall." he leaned closer to Harry. "My dad and Ed are going to _die_?"

"You don't understand-" Harry got up from bed and put on his glasses. "They might survive, if we can save them-"

"Save who?" McGonagall stepped into the dorm, with Neville at her heels. "Longbottom's been telling me about Harry, you said he had a nightmare?"

"It wasn't a nightmare!" Harry said, frustrated. "It was _real_! _I was the snake_!"

She fell silent, before speaking in a short voice, "this is a matter that Dumbledore needs to hear."

—-

Damn it, why was Dumbledore ignoring him? Harry wanted to scream, wanted to shout, wanted to let him know that _it wasn't a dream, it was real_.

Just as he was going to make his point clear, one of two portraits of headmasters that Dumbledore had sent out returned. "I made it clear I needed them to go down and check for hurt bodies downstairs, and you know what they found-" the portrait's eyes widened as he spoke. "-they found two people, a redhead and a blond. They definitely weren't looking good, and you know what?" The portrait seemed to swell with importance as he spoke. "The blond, he was a right midget, but you know what else? His _arm_ and _leg_ , me oh my! They were-"

"That's enough, Everard" Dumbledore cut off the portrait. "Dilys will arrive soon to confirm-"

As if his words had summoned her, Dilys also returned to her portrait frame, albeit a bit out of breath. "It's true, Albus, they're bringing the two to St. Mungo's..."

"That decides it, then." Dumbeldore faced the group, though he took great care not to look at Harry. "Harry. Ron. McGonagall, please retrieve the rest of the Weasleys. All of you." He retrieved what Harry assumed was a Portkey: an old kettle under his desk. As the rest of the Weasleys filed in, Dumbledore addressed all of them. "Misters Weasley, and Miss Weasley, your father has been injured during a patrol at the Ministry of Magic. Edward Elric was with him."

Harry tried to give a quick account, though he decided to omit the fact that he was staring from the snake's vantage point, along with Edward Elric's strange mobilities that were not flesh and bone but something else.

—-

"Sirius!" Harry enveloped his godfather in a hug. "Did you hear the news?"

"Just got it" Sirius said gravely. "Arthur and Edward, injured." He turned towards the living room. "Come on, you need rest-"

" _Rest_?" Fred and George stood their ground; they were the same height, if not taller, than Sirius.

"Our dad-"

"-was attacked-"

"You can't forget Ed!"

"Yes, of course-" the twins spoke together. "We need to see if they're alright!"

"It's past midnight, you can see them in the morning" Sirius said bluntly. He tried to usher them towards the living room. "You need to rest now. I'm sure your father and Ed would like to see you-"

" _NO,_ we need to see if they're alive!"

"They are, Dumbledore said so-"

Just then, a red phoenix feather and a letter appeared on the table. Sirius snatched up the feather, while the twins lunged for the letter. "This is Fawkes' feather" Sirius murmured. "Someone has sent us a message."

The twins read it out. It was very short.

_Dad and Ed are still alive. I'm heading to St. Mungo's right now. Stay where you are. Love, Mum._

_"Still alive_..." George said slowly.

They exchanged worried looks.

—-

Alphonse Elric was walking the halls of Central city. It was night, and most people had gone to bed. Someone like him who didn't sleep tended to walk the halls a lot. Then, he felt something.

It was a gut feeling without any premise or reason otherwise. The last letter he'd gotten from his brother was a few days ago, telling him everything was alright.

He ran to Mustang's office. "Colonel-!"

Roy stared at the suit of armour. "I was about to find you. Take a seat." He thrust a piece of paper, at Alphonse. "I just got this." It was not emblazoned with the Ministry of Magic's logo, but rather a hurried note that someone had discreetly sent out.

_Dear Roy Mustang,_

_A soldier under your command, Edward Elric, has been injured. King Bradley has been notified. Please stay alert, you will be given more information in time to come._

_-Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts_

"Pack your bags, Alphonse, just in case." Mustang cleaned up the chess pieces on his desk. "We might go to London."

"Might? Shouldn't we leave immediately? Ed's in danger?"

"No, your brother isn't in danger. He's been injured, but it looks like he's been taken somewhere for recovery." He sighed. "I'll alert Riza tomorrow, when she's awake. And-" He twirled his pen. "-While I am worried about Edward, I have the utmost belief that he'll bounce back, good as new." He rubbed his forehead.

Alphonse hummed. "Say, Mustang, isn't it past sleeping time? You're supposed to sleep earlier, right?"

"You're right."

Just a few rooms away from Alphonse and Mustang, Major Alex Louis Armstrong snored in his sleep.

Far away from them in Resembool, Winry sleepily petted Densuke as the yawned.

In Dublith, Sig Curtis placed another blanket over his wife as she slept.

—-

When Ed woke up, he was numb. He couldn't feel anything, although that was probably better than feeling pain.

"Oh, good. You're awake." Mr. Weasley sounded anxious. Ed turned his head on the hospital bed to see Mr. Weasley in a similar bed beside him. He tried to speak but his voice came out hoarse.

"You must want water, right?" A busy nurse came in with a clipboard in one hand and her wand in the other. "It's good to see you awake, Mister Elric." She held the cup for Ed as he sipped from a straw. He was covered in bandages and blankets, and didn't feel like moving anytime soon.

Oh, yeah. His automail.

As soon as the nurse left the room, Arthur poked Ed's forehead. "So, Ed-" his voice turned higher and sharper, more stern, just like a father scolding his son. " _Why didn't you tell me that half of your limbs are made from metal_? Hm?" At Edward's panicked expression, Mr. Weasley exhaled a breath. "Don't worry, the nurses and doctors all know, how did you think they healed you?"

"Um..." Ed wanted to leave, wanted to be anywhere than in a hospital bed with no way out. "Mr. Weasley, I can explain-"

"You better. But it can wait, you're really hurt and-" all of a sudden, Arthur's eyes filled with tears. "-I'm really sorry, Edward. Oh, my goodness. I'm so sorry, really. I never thought a quick patrol would turn out like this." he sighed as he rested his head against his own pillow. "Molly's going to kill me."

"Oh, no." Ed was not looking forward to a confrontation with Arthur's wife. "She's going to _kill_ me, Arthur-"

Arthur only chuckled weakly, and his cast seemed to grow bigger. "Don't worry, she actually visited me in the early morning, around five. You were asleep, thank goodness." He nodded knowingly. "I asked the nurses to cover you up with as many blankets as they could, so Molly wouldn't die of fright at your...appendages. But if I'm right, they'll be visiting soon today. Better brace yourself."

"Thanks. And I promise, Mr. Weasley, I'll tell you and the others everything about my automail-er, I mean my prosthetics, soon."

"Yes, please, Edward. That would be nice." Arthur sighed. He thought, _after we're done with this mess, Edward deserves a hug._

—-

Harry had a bad, bad, feeling about St. Mungo's. He was worried and anxious, nervous to boot. He'd been the snake. Even though not many people believed him, he was confident in the fact: he could clearly remember the sight of blood, coming out of Mr. Weasley and Edward.

What if somehow, they'd seen him? Somehow, maybe they'd looked into the snake's eyes and seen Harry Potter.

His palms were sweaty, and his breathing was fast and shallow, until Hermione tugged on his sleeve. "Hey, Harry. We're here."

Ron pointed towards the door. "Dad and Ed are there" he said quietly. "May as well give them a greeting, right?"

Mad-Eye nodded in agreement. "Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione can go first." He pointed to himself and Tonks. "We'll bother Arthur with Order business later."

—-

Edward didn't know how long he'd dozed off for, but he was gently awaken by Mr. Weasley. "Molly, my sons, Harry, and Hermione are here. They'll come in anytime now."

"..Oh. Okay." His broken arm had already been put into a cast, and his leg had also been bandaged up, to say nothing of the damaged automail; most of the loose wires and such had been removed earlier, so he was left with two stumps. Luckily, the blankets had covered him in almost a swaddled-fashion.

—-

Harry breathed in, and out.

He opened the door.

At first, he didn't recognize Edward; he'd never seen the Alchemist with his hair down. But there he was, in a hospital bed, looking smaller and frailer than Harry had ever thought a brash person like him would be. Only his head poked out from layers of blankets, and Mr. Weasley waved enthusiastically at the rest. "Welcome!"

**< a href="<https://imgur.com/a/DPTafeH>">A quick visual of poor Ed in the department of mysteries after Nagini’s attack</a>**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image above this note is a quick visual depicting Edward right after Nagini disappeared (pretend there's more blood). Yes, his left arm is broken. No, I do not know how to Draw a broken arm. I''m going to get the next chapter out soon because I really want to write it: the big confrontation where Ed has to hastily explain everything (and I love writing Mustang and Alphonse, lol). 
> 
> Anyways, yeah, hoped this chapter was good! Leave a comment down below :D

**Author's Note:**

> [A lovely Russian translation of “Alchemist in the Order”](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9924536)
> 
> Don’t forget to comment your thoughts!


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